


A Fresh Start

by Hollyoakhill



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety, Arson, Blood and Violence, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, Gen, Hurt, Hurt Leon, Hurt/Comfort, Leon-centric, Minor Oc Characters, Murder Mystery, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-06
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-02-27 05:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18732733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollyoakhill/pseuds/Hollyoakhill
Summary: Instead of being picked up by the government, Leon chose to remain a cop, and was assigned a new job at a sleepy, rural town in the far north in the US. His experiences in Raccoon makes it hard to readjust to a normal life, and matters are made worse when ghosts from the past begin to haunt him in his new home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Funnily enough, this was all sparked by the Arklay Sheriff costume in the RE2 remake. I'm not big of a fanfic author since I prefer to draw, but I'm just too huge of a fan of detective stories, I felt I had to give this one a go. We'll see how far I'll go with this, and I hope you will enjoy the ride reading this as I have had writing.  
> This is entirely un-beta'd and also English is not my first language, so there'll be some hiccups here and there. I'll try to straighten out any wrinkles where I can find them.  
> I got some chapters already written and I'll try to keep a reasonable release schedule, though I'm already juggling this between work and life.  
> Anyhoo, I hope you enjoy.

It was his first day at the job. Again.

Leon had pulled up at the sleepy town of Arcadia Hollow, a place that was barely a dot on a map bigger than the smallest counties of the US, much less on a federal basis. Placed in a comfy nook between northwest Montana and the southern Canadian border, the place was the furthest from civilization he had ever been. While the area could be considered microscopic compared to the places he had grown accustomed to over the course of his life, he found the land itself to stretch quite far, covering large patches of woodland and some substantial livestock farming that seemed to run the local economy. While he couldn't consider himself an expert in the world of farming, he could sense that whoever owned the majestic expanses of farmland were considered the head honcho of this little community. From his sparse briefing prior to arriving at the town’s borders, the population was low, and the crime rate lower. As far as he was aware, he could picture himself chasing cow tippers and mediating neighbor disputes more than solving any actual crimes. Then again, chastising bored teens and disgruntled farmers was a far cry from firing bullets into a zombie’s knees to slow them down, or narrowingly escaping the clutches of mutated monsters who were out to kill him.

Second time’s the charm, right?

While he was not thrilled at the look of his new house, he was not disappointed either. It was an old little wood house at the edge of the suburban area of the town. Just one floor, a spacious yard with room for his new jeep (the old truck had been left behind in Raccoon with most of his belongings, which had been caught in the blast when the bomb hit). He stepped inside and inspected the place. All the necessities were present, the sheriff had been so kind as to give him bedding, toiletries, some cereal and milk and other necessities for his arrival, which Leon appreciated. One brief look at the kitchen counter, he spotted a note, written in a slanted and haphazard scrawl that he had to squint to read correctly.

‘’ _This used to be Grampa Gunnar’s old hunting cabin before it was bought by the government. Take care of it._

_PS:_

_Beer’s in the fridge. If you don’t like it, then we can’t be friends._

_H.H._ ’’

Leon grinned, recognizing the initials to belong to his new boss. Looking in the fridge, he found a six pack of Pilsner, as promised, in addition to some chocolate and milk. He smiled a little wider. He had a feeling he and the sheriff could get along.

His new home was just ten minutes from the main street, which held a convenience store, a bar, a school, a community building, a gas station and a church that seemed quite modern compared to the town’s otherwise rustic appearance. Not far from the community center and the church was what he assumed to be his new workplace, a flat-roofed building, probably built in the late 60’s when the government likely decided that this village needed law enforcement of some sort. It was a far cry from the R.P.D, which was ancient and labyrinthian compared to this, and he found some strange sense of relief in it. While the building itself was frankly quite ugly, it did spare him some even uglier memories. He could take some solace in that.

The building really was an eyesore though.

He had already changed from civvies to the beige and brown uniform of the sheriff's office, choosing to take the hat off while he’s inside as according to uniform regulations. The autumn chill was much stronger here in the north, and he had resorted to wearing his winter jacket, originally issued to him for the winters in Raccoon prior to his first job. He hadn’t gotten any chances to buy a new one or having one given to him by the new precinct, so this one had to do. It felt a little wrong to wear the R.P.D initials on his back this close to the incident, but it was either that or nothing. While he had never been this far north before, he was aware of how harsh winters could be up here. He hoped he would get a new jacket soon.

Scrubbing the thoughts from his mind, Leon found a parking spot near the exit of the lot and headed inside. While he didn’t expect a whole lot of activity here, especially not so early in the morning, he was surprised to find the entrance hall entirely devoid of life. The reception desk was empty, and there were chairs lined up against the opposite wall with not a soul present. Scratching the back of his head, he walked around in the open area, hoping to spot someone who maybe hadn’t seen him yet.

‘’Hello?’’ he called out, heading over to the receptionist desk. He looked for some sort of bell but was disappointed to only spot a computer and some bundles of paper haphazardly scattered about. He felt a niggling sense in the back of his head telling him to watch every corner, for any sounds or movements that seemed out of the ordinary. ‘’Is there anyone here? I’m Officer Kennedy. I’m here for the deputy assignment.’’ he called again, but no dice. He strongly felt like exploring the corridors that likely lead to the offices, but he didn’t want to accidentally intrude or just miss the receptionist should they come back. Besides, he had arrived about an hour early.

Pacing back and forth, he debated calling out again, but decided against it and promptly sat down in one of the waiting seats. Despite his rational thoughts arguing against, he found himself closely observing every door and corner for anything off. His hand started to slide towards his thigh, where his gun used to be. While the chair was surprisingly comfortable, he sat straight, not letting himself grow complacent. His wait turned from 5 minutes to 10 to 15 when he said ‘’fuck it’’ and rose from the chair, intending to walk into the corridor where the Sheriff had to be.

Leon was met with the surprised face of an older gentleman who had opened the door just before he had a chance to enter. The guy had been holding an armful of binders that nearly fell out when he narrowly avoided colliding into Leon’s much taller form. The guy whooped as he grabbed a wayward piece of paper that slid out from a binder and securely put it back place, but his small tower of documents was beginning to topple. Leon quickly stepped in and grabbed first one, then two, then four large folders that had slid off the small mountain. The man quickly lumbered over to the receptionist desk and dumped his cargo with a groan and adjusted his tie with a satisfied huff. Leon followed with his small load and deposited them close by. The man then turned towards Leon with a proud smirk, leaning confidently against the counter with a natural charisma.

‘’Quick reflexes there, compadre. Nearly turned into a catastrophe, but I can safely say that it's been valiantly averted, thanks to your quick thinking and brave action in the face of danger. Anyway, what can I get you for, young gent? Haven’t seen you around these parts.’’

Leon was caught a little off guard at the chatty gentleman in front of him. The man was a broadly built individual, clearly pretty strong judging by the size of his arms and chest alone. He was fairly portly around the waist, which indicated a lifetime’s worth of enjoyment of beer and other pleasures he had indulged in. His eyes were sharp and surrounded with crow’s feet and laugh lines.

‘’I’m Officer Kennedy. I’m here for the deputy position at the Arcadia Hollow precinct,’’ Leon replied, a line he had definitely not rehearsed on the drive to this place. ‘’It’s nice to meet you, Mr…’’ he said, reaching out a hand, making sure to take off his glove before doing so.

His gesture was reciprocated with a strong and confident grip. ‘’Name’s Haraldsen. Most call me Henry.’’ he grinned slyly. ‘’But you may call me boss,’’ he winked with a chuckle.

‘’Yes, Sir.’’

‘’Ah, no need to Sir me. I don’t know how it is in the big city where you’re from, but we’re all friends in this town.’’

‘’Okay, Officer Haraldsen.’’ Leon smiled in return.

‘’You can cut out the Officer stuff as well. In this town, we don’t care about honorifics and stuff unless you’re the Lord or the Feds. Consider it your first lesson.’’

‘’Yes, Boss.’’

‘’You’re a quick learner,’’ Henry grinned and turned back towards the corridor he had entered. ‘’Follow me, kid.’’

‘’It’s Leon, Boss.’’

‘’Much better. You’re already on your way to become a grade A student.’’

‘’Oh, so you looked at my Police Academy report card already?’’ Leon quipped. He got an amused chortle in return.

The corridor did not go far into the building, just enough to house about six separate doors, each that likely lead to probably two meeting rooms, an interrogation room (or what passes as one in this place), a restroom and two offices. He was guided to the last door, which was branded with an H. H at the blinded window. Quietly closing the door after him, he politely sat down in the chair in front of Haraldsen’s desk. Haraldsen himself slumped down in his own chair and promptly took a large bite from a banana that had been hidden behind a large stack of paper. Leon patiently waited for him to finish eating before his boss spoke.

‘’How did the journey treat you? Heard you came all the way from the Midwest.’’

‘’Nothing like some audiobooks on CD to shorten the journey, Boss. Finished about three novels worth, I think,’’ Leon grinned. He didn’t mention how he had barely paid them any attention. He just needed to listen to anything that wasn’t his internal voice for the long hours of his travel.

“I’m impressed. Just the idea of audiobooks put me to sleep. I’d have crashed my patrol car as soon as I put one on.” Henry crossed his arms and took one last gulp of banana. ‘’I take it you already had a gander at your new place?’’

‘’Yes, I just had a quick look around the house before heading here. It’s a peaceful looking spot. Just dropped off my bags before heading back over here. Appreciate the beer by the way.’’

Haraldsen nodded approvingly. ‘’You better. That Czech stuff is not cheap in these parts. Much better than the bland local piss water anyway. I trust you to savor it because I don’t splurge on my employees often. We barely get any funding as it is,’’ he laughed. It is hearty, and Leon just noticed how his wrinkled face only made the guy seem much friendlier. He certainly looked more like a farmer than a cop. However, just as Leon started getting used to Haraldsen’s jovial appearance, the man’s features fell as he suddenly got serious. He straightened his back and leaned down over the desk. Despite the man’s smaller and stockier stature, his presence was large and Leon felt just a little bit smaller.

‘’Don’t think I don’t know about Raccoon, kid. I read your file before approving of your placement. I have no idea what that hell was like, and I’m not gonna pretend to. I just wanna make it clear that even though you cleared that psych eval, it doesn’t mean that it's over.’’

Leon felt himself stiffen a little and did his best not to have a hand rub over the recently healed shoulder. The last bandages had been removed just a couple of days before he left for the north, and there was a lingering ache in the area that had plagued him for most of the journey there. He forced himself to keep up the eye contact, even though Henry’s presence started to feel overwhelming.

‘’No one but me knows about your situation. And while that disaster is still fresh in the national consciousness, I highly recommend you keep it on the down low. At least for the time being. This is a small town, and you can bet your ass word travels way faster than whatever bullshit virus outbreak. It's way better if you have a chance to leave that shit behind you. On your own terms.’’

‘’Thank you, Boss.’’ Leon felt his voice falter a little, but none of them acknowledged it. Henry simply looked at him with concerned, but confident eyes.

Leon couldn't say much about the incident even if he wanted to. Shortly following the escape from Umbrella, Sherry, Claire and him were picked up by a military rescue team that had been sent to locate stragglers from the city before it was blown up to hell. Leon, being a cop and technically an authority on the whole situation, had then been singled out as a key witness, and cross-examined and interrogated by the Feds till he had rehearsed a script he would recite till they left him alone. He had shared everything he could, being purposefully vague about his brush with Ada and Claire, while carefully omitting Sherry’s place in the whole mess. He and Claire had agreed to try their best to protect her from the inevitable fallout, though it seemed silly to think back on it since Sherry had been just as dirty and bloody as them when they were rescued.

In the end, Claire slipped away from the Feds so she could pursue her brother in Europe, Leon had been in a coma for three straight days and Sherry was taken away some time while he was out. He could recall being approached by Claire at the hospital when he was still groggy and dazed from the meds. She had kissed his forehead and said goodbye, though now he wasn’t sure if it was a dream or not. When he eventually woke up, he was alone.

He had no way of getting in touch with either of the girls, and he wasn’t sure if he should try, knowing how dangerous Umbrella still is. In the end, he had strict instructions to never talk about his experiences in Raccoon, or risk serious charges. It was fine; he didn’t feel like talking about it anyway.

Leon and Henry continued to chat for a bit, and he was given a brief guide around the building. It wasn’t a huge place, but the main office where he was going to work was spacious and well lit, even decorated lightly with some plants and tasteful travel posters framed on the walls. Otherwise, it looked like a regular precinct; calendars, spreadsheets, stacks upon stacks of used coffee cups that likely have been left for weeks at a time, computers with flashy sleep mode animations and phone wires tangled in pencils and miscellaneous police gear.

‘’Your desk is over there, by the window. You’re lucky, you got one of the new Dell’s that Helen, our treasurer, squeezed out from our budget. You better treat it well, or else our first murder case is gonna be yours.’’

‘’Got it,’’ Leon chuckled. The computer wasn’t anything fancy, but he knew how underfunded these remote stations could be, so he silently vowed to treat it like a precious gift. He was pleased to be given a window desk, especially since the view into the forest was quite a serene scene in these morning hours. ‘’Speaking of your… uh, our...  treasurer, where is everybody else? Isn’t it past opening hours by now?’’

‘’Ah, I assume Tyler has to be in now. He’s our receptionist. You’re probably going to see him much more than the rest of us, so you better make a good first impression. The rest of our crew is likely managing the kid’s bicycle license test.’’

‘’Kids have to have licenses for bikes here?’’

‘’Nah, not really. But we’re trying to drill traffic rules and common sense into the folks here. Our roads are windy and sparsely populated, so nobody cares about the speed limits. Don’t tell them the license is a sham, we spent a lot of money laminating those cards.’’

‘’My lips are sealed, Boss.’’

Henry nodded approvingly. Deciding that the tour was over, they both headed out towards the parking lot. Before Leon could ask about his new duties as deputy, Henry waved him off, as if he knew exactly what he was going to ask.

‘’There’s not much happening today. Just focus on getting settled in and we’ll give you a proper welcome tomorrow. Since you arrived this morning I can only assume you’ve been driving all night?’’

‘’Yeah, there’s less traffic and tailgaters to deal with. More wildlife though,’’ Leon said, unlocking his car. He was tempted to mention that he hadn’t slept much at all the last couple of weeks, but decided to keep that to himself. ‘’I’m looking forward to meeting the rest.’’

‘’And they are itching to see you. It’s been too long since we’ve had new blood in our ranks.’’

Leon entered his car and started the ignition. Before he had a chance to close his door and drive off, Henry interjected:

‘’Oh, and I recommend you get rid of that jacket or at least wear something less morbid to work.’’

Leon just remembered his R.P.D issue jacket, which he had idiotically paraded around within the office. He felt his face go a little hot. Hopefully, no one had seen it, since it was still early in the morning.

‘’Will do, Haraldsen.’’

‘’Henry, please.’’

 

\---

 

The rest of the day had been uneventful. The overnight drive had pretty much tired him out, and he found himself napping most of the afternoon away on the old sofa that once likely belonged to Henry’s grandfather. The quilted fabric that covered most of the couch was itchy and uncomfortable, but his sleep-deprived mind didn’t care. The rest of the evening he spent placing the few clothes he owned into drawers and using the ancient vacuum cleaner to give the whole house a sorely needed wipe.

By the time the sun started to go down, Leon’s stomach was crying out for food. While cereal was an option, he realized that he had to do a grocery run sooner or later. Debating whether he leave the house with the R.P.D jacket or risk it, he decided to go without and just wrapping himself into a comfy scarf against the chilly evening. By the time he left, the sun had already sunk behind one of the impressive mountain peaks and clad the valley in shadow. Already prepared with a flashlight, he marched on.

The walk wasn’t far, nor was it hard to follow the road. As the darkness and silence grew, so did Leon’s senses. The chill was not as strong as he had expected, but he still felt shivers down his spine as he tried to focus on following the road, not the strange and new sounds from the forest around him. He had grown up in a suburban area that had patches of woodland, but not actual vast forests like this. He felt himself grow a little unnerved. This is bear and moose territory. Should he have taken the car instead? He shook the thoughts from his mind and started walking a little faster. He just needed to pick up a ready-meal or something, maybe something to drink. No need to drive for such a short trek.

Yet, he felt strangely exposed, like he was naked. The comforting weight of his handgun wasn’t there on his thigh, nor did he have any sidearms. All he got until he was issued a new handgun were his fists and basic close quarters skills he picked up at the Academy. Not much use against a bear. A strange part of him reveled in handling a flame thrower back at the NEST, and he half wished he could own one while on duty. Then again, this is far from Umbrella territory, and there were no zombies or bulbous masses of flesh to kill. It was likely he wouldn’t fire his gun outside of the shooting range ever again.

He froze in place when he heard a sound that sounded a lot like a footstep coming from the underbrush behind him. Whipping around, he searched for the source. Darkness surrounded him at all sides. He made a mental note to buy a better flashlight next time he got the chance. Standing at attention, he listened intently for any further noises but was only rewarded with the ambient noise of trees rustling in the mild evening breeze. Still, on the lookout, he kept walking. His shoulders relaxed once he saw the first street light that indicated his arrival at the main road.

Once he followed that street southwards for about 5 minutes, he would likely arrive at a takeout spot he noticed on his drive back. It was not a fancy place, but it would satisfy his ravenous stomach, which was howling for sustenance. His assumption had been correct; there was a gas station just a little walk down, and within the next 30 minutes he was already back at his new home with dinner. It was only after getting some proper food and drink in his system that he took in his new surroundings.

The cabin was old, likely built in the late ’40s, using a mix of timber and stone. It had a charming rustic look, and while it wasn’t Leon’s style, he could get used to the comfort of resting by the fireplace in the cold evenings. The place was sparsely furnished, as was expected of government property, but some decorations had been left behind; a taxidermized deer head perched over the fireplace, some elaborate tapestries that probably had belonged to Henry’s grandfather, a shelf with some books on local fauna and the third installment of a crime serial that Leon wasn’t familiar with. There was a TV in the small living room, but it was dusty and likely over ten years old. Leon made a mental note to save up some cash for a new one. Until then he would have to get his news from the newspaper.

Footsteps from somewhere outside caught his attention.

‘’Hello?’’ he called out. ‘’Anyone there?’’ He slowly rose from the couch and listened intently. There were a few moments of quiet, then the footsteps resumed, but this time it sped up to a run.

Instinct took over and he grabbed a kitchen knife and positioned himself next to the window where he had heard the noise. His body went rigid and he paced his breathing as he slowly peeked out of the window, knife close to his chest and ready to lunge. The scenery outside was dark, nearly black, save for the half moon over the treetops. After a few seconds of being frozen in place, he quickly shut the curtains of all the windows in the room. Bounding back, he went back to his front door and locked it, and positioned a chair under the handle. Whatever was outside wouldn’t get in without a fight.

He stepped back, walking into the living room. His hand trembled, knife in hand feeling like it was burning. Standing in the middle of the room, the only sounds he could hear was his own labored breath, competing with his heartbeat. Somewhere in the room, a clock was ticking.

A few minutes go by. Nothing happens.

He didn’t sleep much that night. The kitchen knife was on the nightstand and he found himself throwing glances out the window by his bed. His shoulder ached.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of new characters introduced in this one, so the chapter turned out quite long. I did my best to give them all their own characteristics and voices. Hope you like!

His first-but-technically-second day had gone smoothly, and the sun had gone down in a flash. The other officers were still out on their bicycle seminar, so they hadn't had the chance to be introduced yet. It was otherwise a slow day, so Henry had tasked himself to teach the newcomer all that was to know about the history of the town, all the best locations to get beer, and how to operate the new computer (which Leon knew, but was too polite to interrupt when his boss started talking). A brief visit to the storage area of the precinct revealed a warm new jacket for the rookie to wear in the frigid late-autumn air. 

Leon reveled in the normalcy of it all. He wondered if his first day at Raccoon had gone a little more smoothly, it would have gone something like this. What kind of boss would Marvin have been? His mind had started to wander and think about what his coworkers would be like, but the image was quickly replaced with the bloodied remains of the uniformed zombies he had been forced to take out. He shook the train of thought from his mind. He rubbed his left shoulder uncomfortably.

Leon had agreed to Henry's offer to join him at the local pub that was just down the street, a brown Irish pub that seemed to draw tired locals in like a magnet as soon as night fell. Henry and he had arrived just before everybody else, lucking out by getting a comfortable seat in the corner of the bar. His boss was the picture of absolute comfort, leaning back in his seat with a pint of cold Lager in his hand and a pleased smile on his face. Leon had opted for a glass of water. 

‘'Not in a drinking mood?''

‘'Doc's orders.'' Leon had simply replied with an apologetic grimace, not really wanting to go into detail. The meds he still took for the pain in his shoulder sometimes made him feel queasy and alcohol would only worsen the effect. Part of him felt obligated to say as much to his boss, but he didn't feel like explaining why he had a bullet wound in his chest after just knowing the guy for a day and a half.

‘'Doc's orders? Now, what sort of quack have you been going to?'' Henry chuckled, but he didn't push, simply finishing the topic with a big swig of his beer. ‘'Ah, speaking of quack. Hey, Fitz, over here!'' the man called over to the other side of the bar. Leon shrank a little bit, surprised of how loud Henry was, but judging by the lack of reaction from the other patrons, it seemed like a common occurrence. Henry's sudden bellow caught the attention of one small individual who had only just received their drink. It was a spindly man in his 50's, perhaps early 60's, with dark brown skin and round spectacles that made his eyes look so large that they looked like they were drawn by a cartoonist. 

‘'This is doctor Jonathan Fitzgerald, he's the resident medical professional and reigning laser tag champ. He may not look it, but this guy's aim is unmatched.''

‘'Why do you never mention my radiology degree when you introduce me to new people, Sheriff,'' Fitzgerald scoffed and plopped down in the seat next to the sheriff. The guy looked only mildly annoyed but had the same cheeky glint in his eyes as Henry had. Leon could sense that the two older men's history went way back.

‘'It doesn't matter if you have a degree in radiology if you're not actually practicing the stuff,'' Henry shrugged, grinning wide behind the rim of his glass. 

‘'Officer Haraldsen, we've gone over this many times before, that…''

‘'There is a laser tag place here?'' Leon interrupted with a cheeky grin. 

‘'Don't change the subject!'' Fitzgerald pleaded, which only got the other two's laughs in return. 

‘'Looks like it's too late for that, I'm afraid,'' said Henry, with a fraternal clap to the doctor's shoulder. ‘'This is Leon S. Kennedy. He's the new deputy here.''

‘'Ah, so you're the wonderboy everybody's whispering about.''

‘'Oh? I didn't know I had a reputation,'' Leon raised an eyebrow and took a sip from his water. 

‘'Nothing serious, I assure you. Ever since the sheriff announced we would finally get a new resident who isn't a senior or a serial killer, people have been all abuzz about your arrival. Folks have been placing bets on what kind of car you drive and what drink you like, what soccer team you support and so on. Exciting times for all.''

‘'Hey, that was supposed to be a secret,'' Henry cried with feigned offense. He turned to Leon, leaned over the table and cupped his hand around his mouth as if Fitzgerald couldn't clearly hear him already. ‘'I have not been taking part in any such bets. Gambling is a risky and dangerous thing. Don't do it, kid.'' He leaned back in his seat, feigning innocence.

‘'Thank you for sharing with us your endless wisdom, Sheriff,'' Fitzgerald snorted and downed the rest of his drink. ‘'So, what's your story, deputy?''

‘'Nothing too interesting,'' Leon casually waved off. ‘'Grew up on the East Coast, before my family moved to DC. I graduated from the Academy about three months ago, and got my placement here.'' 

‘'So why did you choose this place?''

‘'Oh, well. Needed some distance from everything I suppose?'' Leon mused and took a sip from his drink before he noticed his glass was empty. 

‘'Everything? Define everything.'' 

‘'Oh, you know. The noise and the stress that you get in the city, you know?'' He knew that he was vague, but perhaps he had been too vague. Doctor Fitzgerald seemed to pick up on his avoidance of the subject and arched an eyebrow. Clearly not satisfied, the older man leaned in a little bit and lowered his voice, seemingly wanting to prod at the younger one with a curious look.

‘'So you chose to come to the most remote location that had a placement for your job description?'' Fitzgerald's intelligent eyes penetrated any invisible defense Leon had put around himself. He could tell he was being evasive, and the older man seemed set on finding out why.

‘'It was just convenient,'' Leon retorted lightly, trying to ignore the niggling sense of frustration rise within him at this barrage of questions. ‘'There was another placement in Alaska, so technically not the most remote.''

‘'What about family and friends?''

‘'Not much to speak of. Broke up with my girlfriend after I graduated.'' Keeping up this conversation was becoming a chore, and he struggled to keep up the nonchalant front he had built himself. Henry was quietly watching it unfold. 

‘'Was it a long journey to drive from DC?'' 

‘'Oh, I didn't drive all the way from there, I started off from Arklay County.'' 

Fitzgerald paused. Henry shot him a strange look and Leon internally cringed a little. He wanted to smack himself. He said too much. The doctor folded his hands and leaned even closer over the table. 

‘'Arklay? So you must've seen the ruins of Raccoon City then. You were there when it fell?'' Fitzgerald had phrased it as a question, but everything from his demeanor to the tone of voice clearly signaled that it was a conclusion. 

Leon was taken aback at how direct this strange man was being. He had received a similar line of questioning when he was in the hospital, and he felt annoyed that he didn't notice what the doctor was trying to do before it was too late. This overly interested individual had somehow learned the one thing about Leon that he didn't want to share. 

Surprised and flustered, Leon was about to come up with some sort of excuse when Henry came into the rescue. 

‘'Stop grilling the kid, will you? He can't tell you anything you don't already know, Fitz.''

If there was a sweeter feeling than being saved by the bell, this was it. Leon sent a thankful gaze in Henry's direction, and the guy looked back at him with a strange look. He realized he must've looked quite distressed, judging by his boss's reaction. Fitzgerald remained in place, regarding Leon's face in silence for a few seconds, before his highly focused expression completely melted away and he turned back into the eccentric old man. It was like he had turned into an entirely different person.

‘'Forgive an old fellow for being so inquisitive. We haven't had a new resident in many years,'' he laughed. 

Clearly not, Leon thought to himself. For some reason, his heart was beating so loud it drowned out the noise of the bar, and he felt cold. He could tell the doctor was hiding something, but they had only just met, so he reminded himself not to make any premature judgments. Past experiences indicated he was clearly not the best judge of character. Repeating this mantra, he could feel his heart rate slow down, if only for a little bit. He cursed himself for being so sensitive about some harmless questions. It's not like he's being cross-examined by the military or the Feds or anything. He made a mental note to prepare himself for similar rows of questions from the other inhabitants of the town. Hopefully not as intense as the ones asked by the doctor. 

They sat and held some idle conversation about trivial things for the remainder of the evening. Most of the time Leon caught himself shooting glances at the doctor, wondering just how much the man knew. Had he perhaps seen the R.P.D jacket he wore the day before? Still, he humored the men and told jokes at the right moments and nodded and laughed when he was supposed to. The whole time he could feel a cold lump in his stomach grow bigger and bigger, until he eventually politely excused himself and left the pub, headed straight back home. 

—-

The party poppers were a little too loud. Six people were gathered in the office, each wearing a party hat with bright, garish colors. Some rainbow colored streamers covered his computer and there were fresh pastries passed around. Leon politely accepted a slice of lemon cake even though he didn't feel any appetite. Several people had approached him, asking all sorts of questions and exchanged endless pleasantries. He did his best to reciprocate, though all the faces were bleeding into each other.

"Everybody, keep your pants on. We don't want to scare away our initiate deputy," Henry mediated. Having gained the attention of the room, he then stepped onto a chair. "Ladies and gentlemen, I see you're already getting acquainted with our new recruit, but let us make some official introductions. Leon Scott Kennedy, meet Arcadia Hollow." He heard a string of "hi's" and "hello's" from the room. 

"On your right is Helen, in charge of our money and equipment. She also bakes most of our snacks, so stay on her good side if you want non-poisoned cake." Helen smiled politely at Leon, giving a small nod in greeting. She was a little taller than Henry and was about as wide. Her hair was styled in an old-fashioned updo that did little to flatter her rather pallid features, only made worse by her liberal use of blue eyeshadow. She waved at him with giddy enthusiasm.

‘'Next to her is Santana, not the guitarist I'm afraid. He's probably the youngest patroller here aside from yourself, so I guess you youngsters got that in common." Henry pointed to a stern looking fellow. His dark hair was kept short and neatly styled, along with a freshly ironed uniform. A pair of black rimmed glasses rested on his nose, his tan face was marred with a constant sour expression. What really made him stand out was the fact that he was huge. Leon wouldn't be surprised if the guy could bench press him like he was made of styrofoam. His intimidating appearance was only reinforced by the fact that the party hat made him look absolutely ridiculous.

"I am 32 years old," Santana deadpanned. 

"As I said: youngsters." Henry insisted. 

"Behind Santana there, is Adeline Batt. She's our wildlife specialist and likely has the most arresting power out of all of us." 

"Catching poachers is my life mission," Adeline drawled with a tip of her wide-brimmed hat. The party hat on top of her normal hat wobbled precariously. Adeline was a tall, freckled, broad woman in her early fifties. Her wrinkled face had been tanned from decades of hiking, highlighted by her strong cheekbones that never stopped looking rosy. While she looked like a friendly individual, she had an air about her that spelled ‘loner'. Leon could imagine she likely spent most of her on-duty hours outdoors and alone in the mountains.

"Don't think you can hide, Charlie." Henry pointed at a good-looking woman who, despite the whole surprise party ceremony, tried to keep writing reports at her desk away from the others. She was a rather lithe individual, likely not much taller than Claire, and her face was angular and pale, framed by her bright red hair. She scoffed at the shoutout, but she did tear her gaze away from her screen to give Leon a curt, but respectful nod. He nodded back, and she smiled at their short little interaction. "Charlie Smith is working traffic and parking, and ironically the worst driver out of all of us. Probably because where she came from they drive on the wrong side of the road." She rolled her eyes at the comment but didn't dispute it. Give me a day and I'll steal that title, Leon thought to himself.

"And lastly, our receptionist, Derek. Where are you Derek?" The bright face of a young man popped into view from behind Adeline's broad back. He waved politely at Leon with a cheerful grin. He was about Leon's height, but thinner. His skin was dark, which contrasted his clear, intelligent blue eyes. Leon couldn't help but notice a surgical scar on the side of his neck, long healed, probably from childhood. "Derek is interning with us for the year, so treat him nicely." 

And with that, Henry clapped his hands and ended the little party. Adeline and Santana left shortly after, and Charlie typed diligently on the document for the next hour or so before she left as well. Helen, Derek, Henry, and Leon stayed behind and cleaned up the crumbs and streamers. 

The rest of the day went by at a normal pace. Leon learned the new data system pretty much immediately and started working the way he had been trained to. There had been no emergency calls that day, so he quickly ran out of things to do. He decided it was a good time to break away from the desk and get more familiar with the workplace. 

He found himself back at the reception, where Derek struggled to lift a heavy-looking box.

"Need any help with that?" Leon said and was rewarded with a surprised yelp from the kid. Derek whipped around, having not heard Leon's approach. 

"No, I got it," he reassured the deputy, even though the box clearly was too heavy. He likely wasn't much older than 18, fresh out of school and eager to impress. Leon could see a little glimpse of his past self in him. He wasn't much older than the intern, but yet he felt that the kid seemed boyish in comparison.

"Ok, just make sure you lift with your legs. You're handling it wrong," Leon leaned on the reception counter, watching the intern try his best to adjust his grip on the box. "What's in there anyway," he asked.

"Just some junk. We got new computers about a week before you arrived, so we're getting rid of the typewriters."

"Typewriters?" Leon repeated curiously.

"Yeah, typewriters," Derek replied, not offering any further explanation. 

"You're just throwing that stuff away?"

"Boss's orders. He said that we're entering the 21st century now so there's no need to keep these things,"

"Hmm, true. Seems like a waste to toss them," Leon remarked. 

"What, you want one?" Derek asked, and lifted the box with a grunt.

"If you're offering," Leon grinned. "And I suppose it will help lighten your load there."

Derek regarded him for a second and then relaxed.

"Thanks, man. These things weigh, like, a metric ton. I can't believe the boss didn't ask Adeline or Santana to take them instead." 

"I assume Adeline’s too busy wrestling bears and hunting for poachers to take out the trash."

"True." Derek nodded. ‘’And Santana is probably trying his best to bust some teens smoking cigarettes or something.’’

He snickered at the mental image of the huge man chasing some snotty school kids down the market street. The large man certainly didn’t seem like he fit in this tiny police department, but rather in some special ops military unit. 

"Well, the resident strongmen may be gone, but I'm here. Got nothing on my schedule right now so I can help out if you want,’’ Leon smiled and shrugged lightly. 

To be fair, Leon was itching to do about anything at this point. There was no need for any more patrollers in the streets at the moment, so he was stuck at the office till anything came up. He had a feeling Henry was forcing him to do desk duty for a couple of weeks so he could monitor him. It's probably why he hasn't been given a gun yet too. He appreciated the man's kindness, but he disliked how he was treated like he was made of glass. However, the boss's word is law so he would have to put up with it for the time being.

The intern seemed to warm up to Leon now that the ice was broken. He assumed that he had only been working there for a few months, so they had their age and rookie status in common. Unlike Leon, however, he was born and raised in the area, so he lit up whenever he mentioned anything about his time in DC and the Academy. The kid was clearly yearning to leave this place behind. He helped Leon pick out a typewriter that still worked, and then they both carried the boxes of trash outside and dumped them in the garbage container. 

When Leon came back home that evening, he placed his new (old) typewriter on the empty desk in his bedroom, pleased with his first decoration of the place. He still felt a little uneasy in this new cabin, but filling it with his own stuff seemed to help. Derek had given him some leftover paper from the office as well, so he had loads of pages to spare. He didn't see himself as much of a writer, but typing out whatever was on his mind had helped him during Raccoon, so he figured it would help him now. 

—-

The days went by in a comfortable monotony. In the morning, Leon would be doing paperwork and taking on the odd dispatch, calls that usually involved noise complaints involving the local youth. The town had a large number of teens who likely were bored out of their mind now that it was getting too cold to do stuff outside. There were too few places for them to congregate indoors aside from loitering around the supermarket. He couldn't do too much about the kids; they were just bored and had nowhere to go. He did his best to be friendly with them, though they didn't make it easy. In the evening, he would sometimes join Henry and the others at the pub until he got bored or tired. He hadn't seen doctor Fitzgerald since their first meeting.

Santana joined him on morning patrols, usually just walking around the main street to oversee the market during peak hours. Occasionally they would walk to the train station to check for security risks and help lost tourists. But usually, it was to buy lunch at the railroad cafe. The two of them didn't speak much unless it was about work. Santana didn't seem to like him much, anyway.

He would sometimes join Charlie on traffic duty, which he probably enjoyed the most. She had moved to Arcadia Hollow from the UK as a teenager, so her accent and mannerisms were just different enough to make her stand out from the otherwise monocultural community. Unlike Santana, who was stoic and reserved, she would always say what was on her mind. While she came off as brusque and standoffish at work, she would visibly relax after the workday and chat about everything and nothing in her off time. Leon quickly learned that her two young kids were her soft spot, and he loved listening to her gushing about them.

Adeline didn't show up at the precinct much. Apparently, she was in charge of a separate task force dedicated to wildlife conservation and fire prevention. The park range stuff was outside of Leon's jurisdiction, so he rarely had anything to do with her. He had joined her once following an emergency call where a tourist had gotten stuck in a pit in the treacherous mountain range. The tourist in question had been unhurt, if not a little dehydrated, and they had returned in time for dinner. When Leon had asked, Adeline simply informed him that tourists would end up stuck in the mountains fairly often, so they all needed to be prepared for whenever it happened. 

It wasn't until week 3 that he had finally received a weapon. It was a small handgun, not too different from Matilda, though it was bigger around the barrel and carried a slightly larger caliber. The firing range was outside the office and a little off into the forest, and they were all wrapped in warm clothes. Charlie relaxed against an oil drum behind them, looking like she'd like to be anywhere else. Winter was fast approaching. 

"Ever handled a gun before, rookie?" Santana asked. Leon shot him a look. Of course, he had, it was standard procedure at the Academy and Santana knew it. He wanted to say as much, but he shut his mouth. He had been hardworking and studious at the Academy, and gunplay just happened to be one of his strongest subjects. And then there had been Raccoon, which had been nothing if not a trial by fire. He simply nodded in confirmation. His peers simply gave him a skeptical look, but they said nothing. 

Leon may be naive at times, but he wasn't stupid. He knew how young and inexperienced he looked. Everybody at the station was giving him the rookie treatment, and it's been going on his nerves for days. Going on patrols with Santana or Charlie separately was manageable, but the two of them in the same space was going to be a nuisance. 

"Ok, do what we do. I'd like you to empty the clip at the paper man over there. After us," he beckoned and loaded his own gun in demonstration. Headphones in place, he got into position and aimed, firing off ten slugs in a rhythmic fashion. Sure enough, there were several holes in the paper dummy several meters down the path. Most of the shots were focused around the chest area, but several had veered off and hit it in the thigh and arms and two seemed to have missed entirely. 

Charlie stepped up second, loading her gun and fired ten consecutive shots at the dummy. Leon did his best not to flinch at the noise. Now that he's finally being given a weapon, he didn't want to lose it just because he lost his composure at the firing range. When they retrieved the doll, they saw nine had hit, and most of them hit vital zones in the chest plus one in the neck. She scoffed at the result and tossed the paper into a large pile of others. Clearly displeased with her result, she returned back to her position by the oil drum, arms crossed.

Santana then stepped away, handing the podium to Leon. Handling a gun again after all these months didn't feel as bad as he thought he would. The weapon itself was a little different from what he's used to, but loading the magazine into the handle and sensing how the bullet clicked into place as he pushed the slid down the barrel, felt familiar and strangely comforting. He unlocked the safety and aimed down the sight, and before he had a chance to overthink it, he released all of the bullets in quick succession. Part of him felt terrified, but another part felt exhilarated. When he let the gun down from his sight and took off his headphones, he half expected a cynical comment from either Santana or Charlie, but when he looked back, he noticed how they were staring at him. Like, staring at him like he had grown a second head.

"What?"

"I thought you were a rookie," Charlie said. Her south London accent was even stronger than usual. Santana nodded in silent incredulous agreement. 

"I guess I am. Why?"

"What do you mean ‘why'? Explain that!" Charlie pointed back at the range. 

Leon looked back at the paper dummy he had shot. There was only one hole in the silhouette… or rather, one very large cluster of holes. It took him a couple of seconds to realize that he had hit the mark in the forehead ten times. He knew his aim was strong, but hitting the mark with such high accuracy was a first, even for him. Charlie was already on her way down the range to pick the paper up and replace it with a new one. She brought back the large paper dummy and all three looked at it. Sure enough, ten holes, all in the head.

"Huh," Leon said. 

"How did you do that?" Santana asked, shielding his eyes from the sun as he regarded the paper dummy. 

"Uh… Practice, I guess?" That only rewarded him an annoyed look from Charlie. She regarded him for a few moments like she's trying to read him. He reluctantly let her, it's not like he was actively trying to hide anything from her. She then handed him a new magazine.

"Do that again. I wanna study your form." 

Santana stepped up closer as well, wanting to observe. After over three weeks of indifference, Charlie and Santana finally seemed to warm up to him, and Leon flushed a little at the attention. They were both technically his superiors, so he didn't see any reasons to refuse. Besides, firing a gun again was something that was familiar to him, and it felt grounding. 

He got back into position, reloading the weapon with trained precision and aimed. His breath was steady, his feet planted in the ground, the recoil was expected and compensated for. It felt like the world slowed down around him as he observed his target down the barrel. He fired, this time a little slower so he could properly assess the target for each shot. When he lowered the gun again, he had hit ten bullseye headshots. 

One quick glance at Santana and Charlie revealed their silent marvel as they watched the paper dummy bounce and dangle from its tether on the other end. The three stood quietly for a few seconds before Santana turned to him and said: "Can you hit moving targets?"

—- 

Even though the workday had been easy and he was home relatively early, he felt a looming sense of exhaustion that persistently pulsed through his body. He wasn't thrilled to remember that it was only the beginning of the week. While he wasn't used to feeling this weary, he wrote it up to be an unholy combination of lack of sleep and the pain meds. He would get over it eventually. Leon locked the car and walked up to his house. 

He was thinking about what he should do for dinner when he noticed that the front door was slightly ajar. 

His blood went cold. His brain ran a thousand miles per hour running through different scenarios. Did he forget to close the door that morning? Did a thief break in? Is the lock broken? Is someone following him? Is it just some animals that smelled food inside? 

Slowly, he made his way into the house, cringing when the hinges of the door creaked loudly. Images of a large man in a trench coat slamming open doors at the R.P.D played in his mind. He was still not equipped with a gun, and he likely wouldn't for about a week. He spotted a cast iron poker for the fireplace by the entrance and brandished it like a bat. With trained precision, he stepped quietly over wooden boards and scanned each room. At first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and he felt himself relax a little. Maybe he did forget to close the door that morning. 

Quietly, he patrolled the little cabin for clues. However, after about ten minutes with no results, he resigned himself from the search. Nothing seemed out of place, and he spotted no unfamiliar footprints in the entranceway. He slumped into the couch. 

Why was he so goddamn paranoid? 

"Fuck!", he snapped and tossed the fire poker at the wall. It bounced off with a melodious clang, leaving a large white gash in the wood where it had impacted. His head fell into his hands and he paced his breaths, trying his best to fight off the wave of frustration and anger and that suddenly hit. Why was this happening to him? Why did he feel this way? Raccoon was months ago, but the smell of decay and blood still lingered, his senses flooded with glimpses of muzzle flashes and tall men in trench coats. The infected city was thousands of miles away, and yet the same feeling of cold dread permeated through his entire body, holding on to his mind in a cold hard grip. It just would not let go. His breath grew harder and harder to control.

At some point he must've blacked out, because suddenly he found himself in the kitchen, leaning over the sink and clutching the counter with a white-knuckled grip. His shirt was drenched with sweat. He could see his face in the reflection of the window. He looked bleak, almost sickly so. Nausea started to invade his senses. Leon grabbed a glass and filled it with water, and as he did he noticed how much his hands were shaking.

What is happening to me?

He slept in his car that night, with the radio playing loudly so he could drown out the noise that clouded his mind. The digital clock on the dashboard passed 02:45 by the time he finally fell asleep. He was too tired to notice the quiet footsteps that passed by his truck.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A small delay in posting this one due to work and life things, but I'm happy to get this chapter off my chest. Hope you enjoy!

The next day, the office was filled with idle chatter, just the usual exchanges of pleasantries as coffee cups were filled and toast was buttered. Leon sat by his desk, not having bothered to boot up his computer. Because of last night’s ordeal, he felt irritated and jumpy. He did his best not to sour anyone else’s morning because of his bad mood. Helen approached him with a tray of freshly baked banana bread, but he politely declined, not feeling particularly hungry. Helen accepted his answer without any issues, but Santana cast him an indignant look from the other side of the office. While it seemed like everybody at the station was starting to warm up to Leon, it seemed like Santana was dead set on treating him like some sort of rival. 

The door of the office slammed open, revealing a frazzled looking Henry. The buzz in the room went quiet. He looked sweaty and mildly distraught like he had run down the whole market street in a hurry. His thin wispy hair was messy and damp under his hat, and his shirt was untucked from his trousers, an uncharacteristic look for the otherwise neat guy.

“Guys, we got a murder.”

Everybody at the precinct looked at each other in stunned silence. 

“Are you serious,” Charlie exclaimed in disbelief, though they could all see how serious the sheriff was. Her comment was ignored as their boss gathered supplies from a desk nearby, and took a sip from a coffee that likely wasn’t his. 

“Charlie, I want you to block off the road by Bayswater and Silence Creek. Santana, stand by until I give any further orders. Until then I want you to wrangle the civvies. Kennedy, come with me.”

“Wait, why are you giving me desk duty when the rookie is right there?” Santana protested, but Henry was already out of the door and thus leaving no room for argument. Leon followed, sending Santana an apologetic look, but was only returned with a seething glare.

Henry and Leon left the building in a hurry, barely giving him any time to put on his jacket before he was faced with the frigid winter air. The sky was a canvas white, on which the mountains and treetops painted a serene image. It was just a question of time before the snow would cover the entire town. 

The sheriff started driving before Leon had time to put on his seatbelt. 

“What do we know already?” Leon asked, already switched into work mode. 

“Not much. Time of death is unclear because of the cold, so the murder might either have happened last week or four hours ago at the least. The coroner is on their way, but their office is further downstate, so it will take a couple of hours before they arrive. Adeline is already at the spot watching the scene, but for now, that’s all we know.”

“Signs of foul play?” Leon was taking notes, trying his best to keep up with his boss, who was talking very quickly. 

“Very likely. Still too soon to say, since I’ve yet to see it.”

“Okay. Any ID on the victim?” 

Henry’s mouth was taught in a thin, straight line. His leather gloves creaked as his hands gripped the steering wheel. 

“It’s Doctor Jonathan Fitzgerald.”

Leon put the notebook down. “Oh, I… I’m sorry, boss. I’m… my condolen-...”

“Save it,” Henry clipped, not letting his eyes off the road. Leon shut his mouth and looked away. He didn’t know the victim very well, but he understood that Henry valued him as a friend, maybe even as close family. The news clearly hit him hard, and being forced to deal with the aftermath of the murder certainly did him no favors.

They were quiet for a few more miles. Then Henry sighed. “Kid, I’m sorry. That was very shitty of me. I know you only wanted to be respectful. It's just… It's just...” He seemed to struggle to find the words.

“It’s okay,” Leon said. It was simple, but not without compassion. He had been there before. Henry sent him a warm glance before focusing on the road again.

“You’re a good kid, Kennedy.”

The drive lasted for quite a while longer. If Arcadia Hollow town was remote, then this was basically the wilderness. Some houses dotted the landscape, and surprisingly, they looked lived in, probably owned by some farmers and hermits as far as he could guess. The road had diverged some miles down and led into a small, old path that had been paved once decades ago, and likely never maintained since. The patrol car was equipped for bad terrain, but the undercarriage was still rattling for every pothole with worryingly loud crashes. Part of Leon felt that any more miles of this and they’re gonna arrive with nothing but four tires and a steering wheel.

Eventually, they pulled up at the gravel path of what looked like a lumberyard. It was nestled in the valley between two very impressive mountains, in the center of grassland that stretched from the edge of the forest to a lake about 400 feet eastward. The lake itself was fairly small and calm, creating a perfect mirror image of Arcadia Peak that towered over the entire county. 

Not too far off the lake, he could see the roof of an industrial looking building, protected by a concrete wall that seemed to crumble in some spots. It looked like it was in a considerable state of disrepair. The roof had caved in near the edge of the facility, and if rust didn’t cover most surfaces, then a thick layer of moss did. When he craned his neck to see the building better he saw a sign that had a triangular, green logo on it, though the writing was too far away to see what it stood for. 

‘’Travis Enterprises. It's an old distilling factory that they stopped running when they rebranded in the ’60s. Don’t remember what its called now though.’’ Henry helpfully supplied when he noticed Leon’s curious stares. ‘’Nobody has worked there in 30 years.’’

With Leon and Henry’s arrival, there were now four cars parked by the central storage house. He recognized one of the cars to belong to the Arcadia precinct (probably Adeline’s car), a blue Volkswagen that he knew belonged to Doctor Fitzgerald and one dented, silver Mercedes Benz that he had never seen before. Leon carefully regarded the dirt around the cars when he heard his boss speak out from the house.

“Damn, looks like we got a break-in to add to our woes,” the Sheriff grumbled. He held a cup of coffee that had long gone cold, but he didn’t seem to pay it any mind. Looking at the entrance to the office, Leon saw what he meant. 

The door of the warehouse lumberyard hung precariously from one hinge, creaking loudly as the wind nudged it back and forth. A large gash left a splintered hole where the doorknob used to be. Shards of exposed wood littered the porch.

“It’s not a break-in,” Leon piped up. 

“What?” said Henry.

“Someone broke it from the inside,” Leon said. When he was met with a confused glance, he gestured towards the hole in the door. Upon closer inspection, they both saw that the fragments of wood pointed outwards. In fact, the doorknob was nowhere to be seen. If they were to follow the trajectory of it, they might find it in the ditch somewhere. 

“The door. Whatever caused the impact, it came from the inside.” 

Henry nodded in understanding and didn’t dispute it. His boss stepped through the entrance, carefully making sure he didn’t accidentally step on some evidence. Leon bit his lip. In the short time he had known the sheriff, he had grown used to the guy being so chatty and cheerful. It was a far cry from how the guy looked now; forlorn, hunched, a little lost. He had a feeling the next couple of days were gonna be tough on all of them.

He attentively took notes as he observed the crime scene. The lumberyard was near ancient in his eyes. Old wood with cracked paint, mildew stains in every corner and he was pretty sure that a rat was nesting in the cupboard. The weather had briefly warmed up that morning, and the frost that seemed to stick to everything had melted off. There were wet patches on the floor, a direct consequence of the gaps in the sheet metal that haphazardly covered the ceiling. It smelled like sap and wet towels, and the little sunlight that filtered through the industrial style windows only helped illuminate the dust clouds that lingered in the air. The warehouse was nearly empty, save for two large stacks of rotting timber by the east wall. 

“Dear Lord,” Henry breathed. The sheriff stood frozen at the sight before them. 

At the end of the hall, just a little off to the side hung the body of doctor Jonathan Fitzgerald. At first, Leon had thought it to be death by hanging, but then he saw that his head was far too slumped forwards to be held by a noose. Only when he looked down did he notice the large metal hook that protruded from his ribcage. His glasses had fallen off, cracked as they came into contact with the bloodied floorboards. The room was quiet, save for the slight creak as the rope connected to the hook shifted over the wooden beams in the roof. 

“Tragic, isn’t it,” Adeline said. She had been waiting by the door they entered, and they had been too distracted by the grisly sight to notice her. Her hat rested in her hands. “He delivered my second son and two of my grandchildren. It's such a terrible shame for him to go in this way.” 

“I’m sorry,” Leon said earnestly. “He must’ve been important to you,”

“Not just me,” Adeline replied. “He was a pillar of our community. We’re going to feel the impact of this in the whole province.”

The three of them watched the scene ahead of them for a few seconds in respectful silence.

“The coroner should arrive in about 45 minutes. The forensics department just messaged me as well, so I’ll arrange for that. I’m not sure if they know the way, so I’ll head out and see if I can meet them halfway. I want the two of you to watch the scene and see if you find anything worth reporting.”

Henry briskly stepped out of the building. Leon intended to follow, but he felt a hand on his shoulder. Adeline sighed.

“Doctor Fitzgerald was a very close friend of Mr. Haraldsen. Give him a few minutes to piece himself together.”

“O- of course,” Leon said. 

The two of them remained in the hall until they heard the sheriff’s car leave the parking lot. Leon let out a breath he didn’t know he held. He inched closer to the body and inspected it. Fitzgerald was dressed in his regular clothes. He recognized the blazer from the day they had first met, but the shirt underneath was different. There was a small stain of blood at the collar, which could possibly indicate the guy having been struck in the mouth or nose at some point before the murder. The hook had likely been stabbed with a single, powerful strike, judging by how the fabric had been torn and the trajectory of the blood spray. The bleeding had stopped at some point before his arrival, but the pool under the doctor’s feet was still wet. Leon made sure not to accidentally step in it. 

“Didn’t think I’d see this much blood again,” he muttered. 

“Again?” Adeline asked, eyebrows raised. 

Leon winced. He didn’t know she was listening.

“Ah sorry, it was nothing.”

Adeline looked at him for a moment, but she thankfully let it drop and returned to writing notes into her little book. He let out a quiet sigh and directed his attention around the body. If there were any footprints left behind, it was hard to spot any without any special equipment. 

“Who called it in?”

“Anonymous tip at 08:03 this morning.”

“Do we know who owns the Mercedes outside?”

“Running the numbers on the license plate at the moment, though we’re not expecting any results ‘till tomorrow.” Adeline didn’t let her eyes off the notes even once.

He decided to divert his attention elsewhere. Two out of the six windows in the house were open, and he made a note to check those later once the forensics crew had a look over the place. Aside from the tiny office from which they had entered, the cupboard and the warehouse proper, there were no additional rooms to speak of. There were no signs of fighting as far as he could tell, and the sawdust was settled in almost every area aside from the central floor.

“It looks like he was surprised by the attacker or attackers.”

“I suppose a hook through the spine could be considered surprising,” Adeline retorted lightly. 

“I mean, just judging by the evidence. I don’t have all the information just yet, but…” he was waiting for her to stop him, but she simply looked at him with an unreadable expression. “I think he came here willingly.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. There were no obvious fights outside of this warehouse. The footprints in the gravel around his car were clean, so either he went out willingly or under threat. The doctor and the killer then entered this building and locked the door after them. Perhaps they were discussing something in this room, and that’s when he was assaulted, likely by a third party that he wasn’t aware of.”

“What makes you say that?”

“The dust is mostly settled in this room. If there was a big fight, we would see more visible footprints and bloodstains in the area, but as it currently stands, we can only see our own prints and those belonging to our victim and one - maybe two perps. There’s also a chance that something didn’t go according to the murderer’s plans since the front door was broken from the inside. They might’ve escaped in a hurry.”

Adeline regarded him for a few more moments. She then snapped her notebook shut and beckoned him over. She then rested a kind but firm hand on his shoulder, and she looked him squarely in the eyes. 

“There’s a pretty big brain on those shoulders, deputy. I deeply admire your enthusiasm. I’m not gonna dispute your deductions, but... I think it’s best if you leave it to your seniors to deal with.”

Her voice was soft, but her point was clear. 

“Of course,” Leon said. “I’ll just… I’ll just have a look around outside.”

“Good man,” she grinned and tipped her hat. She gave him two more pats on the back as she practically ushered him out of the crime scene, likely so she was allowed to take her notes in peace. While being dismissed like that stung, he understood what she had meant. This case was quickly unraveling into something a lot larger than their little precinct could handle. It was better to protect the crime scene and let the actual detectives do the work. From his peers’ point of view, he was just a blue-eyed rookie. Yet, something about this stuck out to him in a peculiar way, and he had no idea of what that might be. 

The outside of the warehouse was even more barren of evidence than the inside. He decided to have a look at the abandoned Mercedes. It didn’t tell him much, other than it was a model that was put into circulation about five years ago and had been used very often since then, judging by the wear and tear. It is likely they could lift some valuable DNA from it, so he just made a little note of it in his book and left it for forensics to deal with. 

That’s when he remembered the door hinge that had somehow flown off. He made his way over to the entrance again and measured the potential trajectory of the object. It was hard to tell just how forcefully the thing had been launched from its latches, but the hole left behind was so large it looked like it had been rammed by some large object.

Following the estimated path, he started doing a quick sweep over the grassy ditch by the edge of the parking lot. It took him a few minutes, but he eventually found what he was looking for. However, it was not in the condition he expected it to be. The once-spherical doorknob had been crushed by an incredible force - not like a battering ram, but like a giant fist had clamped around it and crushed, hard. He could trace finger marks around the warped metal, like a handprint on a half-melted snowball. Maybe the knob hadn’t been punched through, but grabbed, squeezed and then thrown? 

This piece of evidence and the hook in Fitzgerald's torso stood out to him. It didn’t make sense. He could write up the handprint in the doorknob to be some sort of fluke, perhaps a sign of poorly constructed metal and rotting wood. However, his mind then went to the hook embedded in the doctor’s chest. The large piece of metal had likely burst through ribs, organs, and vertebrae, a feat that would be impossible for normal human strength to achieve. He didn’t recall seeing any heavy-duty tools on the scene. His head was spinning with questions, and he tried his best to ignore the part of his brain that screamed that he had in fact seen super strength like this before. 

His train of thought was cut short when he heard a twig snap in the woodland ahead of him. His attention diverted from the doorknob and squinted in the direction of the source of the sound. Whoever or whatever was in the forest was too obscured by darkness in the underbrush for Leon to see clearly. 

“Hello?” He tried, warily. “Anyone there?”

When he heard no reply, instinct kicked in and he drew his gun. He moved closer, stepping through tall grass and feeling cold dew and mud seep into his trousers. Some rustling persisted, but it was getting fainter by the second. Quietly, he activated his radio. “Heard a strange sound from the edge of the forest south of the building. I’m investigating now. Over.”

His radio crackled again, Adeline’s voice came through.

“Understood. Be careful, rookie. Over”

Leon rolled his eyes, but he kept his focus. Carefully and quietly, he entered the woods and aimed his gun at any potential threats. Just now did he realize how silent this place was. There was no wind to speak of, and the birds have migrated south several weeks ago. It was just him in a lonely forest, several miles from the closest human settlement. He knew Adeline was in the building just a stone throw away, yet the further in he walked, the more isolated he became.

There was a brush of leaves against wood. A twig snapped again. He whirled around, and his heart was pulsing in his chest. He half expected there to be a rabbit, or a deer or some other animal, but again, nothing. Alone, he stood in the cold forest. He couldn’t see any animals - or people - for that manner, yet every alarm bell rang in his gut, telling him he’s being watched. He hated how familiar that sensation had become, the prickling sensation on his neck that told his every sense that he was not alone. That queasy, uncomfortable paranoia he felt in his cabin the day before returned, and he clutched his gun harder to push those feelings down. As if he was being teased, he heard a similar sound coming from behind him again. This time he didn’t hesitate and bounded over to the source of the sound. 

He entered a small clearing. What first caught his attention were some clear footprints in the red mud. The shape of the prints seemed reminiscent of those he had spotted in the warehouse. Second, was the giant carcass of a bear, partially obscured by a fallen log to his side. Just off the clearing, like it had been dropped or tossed aside, Leon spotted a colorful looking piece of plastic.

“What the” Leon muttered, and quietly walked over to the strange scene. The giant beast was killed recently. He closed in on the animal and examined the wounds. There were several punctures and slashes in its paws and chest, which likely indicated a fight it had lost. Some of the punctures were in pairs, like enormous canine bites. However, he couldn’t imagine an animal inflicting these kinds of injuries, and the holes were larger than any hunting rifle caliber he was familiar with. He wasn’t sure if hunters around here carried bladed weapons into the wild, or if it even was hunting season. His attention then moved on to the prints again. The shoe size was rather large, likely an adult man in work boots. The guy was heavy as well, judging by how deep some of the prints were. A clear foot-shaped hole was slowly filling with blood-stained water. 

He examined the strange looking piece of plastic. It wasn’t covered in mud like everything else, so it had to have been dropped by whoever left the prints. Putting on a pair of rubber gloves, he gingerly picked it up. The telltale clinking sound upon lifting it revealed it to be a keychain. Hanging from the little metal ring hung some house keys and one car key belonging to a Volkswagen. There was some blood on it, and as he examined it closer, he saw that the colorful bits were a plastic keychain toy of some cartoon animal he hadn’t seen before. He bagged the evidence and put it into his inner coat pocket.

“Adeline, do you read?” He said.

“Yeah, I read you. Did you find anything, over?”

“Yeah, but it's not quite what you’d expect, over.” 

“Out with it, rookie,” she said impatiently. “Over.”

“Found some footprints that might belong to our man. There’s a keychain here too. I have a feeling it belonged to the victim. And… “ He wasn’t quite sure how he was gonna phrase this to someone who was clearly a lot more familiar with the wildlife in this area.

“And?”

“There’s a brown and black bear in the clearing. Dead. It has rather… uh… strange injuries. Over.”

“What makes you say that? Over.”

“It looks like it was mauled.”

“That’s not relevant to the case, Kennedy. Bears being aggressive at this time of year is rare, but them fighting over territory is not unheard of. It's just nature.” She was losing her patience with him. 

“No, wait. I mean… it looks like it was mauled by a man-made weapon. And it’s certainly not a gun.”

There was a brief pause.

“Like… a hook?”

He crouched before the bear and followed the slashes and punctures with his eyes. Sure enough, Adeline had guessed right. Some of the double punctures had likely been where the hook had been stabbed, and the slashes where it had been raked across the skin. He could see some strands in its fur that might have come from a rope.

“Yeah. Like a hook… over.”

“How recent?”

He moved a heavy paw a bit to the side so he could examine the wound closer. As he shifted the heavy body, he dodged a wayward spray of blood that squirted out from the pressure. The body was still warm. “Uh, not an expert on bear anatomy, but likely quite recent. Probably within the last hour or so, but in this cold… perhaps 30 minutes at least. Over.”

The other end was silent for a few more seconds. When Adeline spoke up again, she was uncharacteristically quiet. “Leon, you should get out of there.”

“What?” He exclaimed incredulously.

“I’m serious Kennedy.” Adeline insisted. “Come back now.”

“I can’t stop now. I just found a trail that could lead us to the perp!”

“That’s my point. Whoever the killer is, he just killed a fucking grizzly bear. He could still be around. I want you back here, now. Over.”

That made Leon pause. In his single-minded dedication to search for clues, he had willingly wandered into grizzly bear territory, and possibly into a murderer’s hands without backup. It was only at Adeline’s concerned message that he fully realized that he was a sitting duck. Whatever freak of nature was out there, it had killed a man and mauled one of nature’s apex predators. How could he expect to take it down with nothing but a 9mm?

“... Got it,’’ he murmured. “I’m headed back to you.”

“Good,” she said. “I want you to report in every two minutes. If I don’t hear back, I’m calling reinforcements. Over.”

“Roger,” Leon clipped, mouth tight. He badly wanted to keep exploring, to keep pushing on, but the older woman was right. He stood no chance against whatever was out there. Maybe, if he just had his weapons and armor from the R.P.D, he could pursue the killer and take him down. Sighing in defeat, he took note of the time on his watch and started walking back. He would get to the bottom of this, no matter what.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a big one, but the next chapter will be even bigger. All this buildup is going somewhere, I promise. (pacing is hard haha)

When Adeline had remarked that the murder was going to have a huge impact on the town, they had no idea how right she had been. The news had broken out around before noon the day of the murder, and by the time the sun began its descent, everyone had found out. The whole town was in an uproar. Driving past the medical office where Fitzgerald had worked, Leon saw piles of flowers and cards lining the porch. The car park of the police station was swarmed by dozens of gawking civilians trying their best to get a closer look and wannabe journalists who wanted a slice of the publicity. Trying their best to blend in, he spotted several kids who were supposed to be in school. If today wasn’t going to be so much work, he would’ve called them out. The truck of a news station Leon wasn’t familiar with had double-parked over his spot, and he was forced to threaten legal action before the driver gave in and relocated. Santana had begrudgingly accepted the job as a door guard while all the hubbub was going on, and he gave Leon a displeased stare as he let him in.

The inside of the precinct wasn’t much better. The entrance hall was a mess. Reinforcements from a neighboring county had arrived shortly before Leon, and they were gearing up for an all-day search for more clues in the forest. He recognized some of the uniforms to belong to the park rangers Adeline worked with. Someone had accidentally toppled a stack of reports, and the wayward pieces of paper now littered the muddy floor. Several stacks of coffee cups started to form a city skyline-like formation on Derek’s desk.

Speaking of, the kid seemed to be absent.

“Kennedy, just who I needed,” the clear voice of Charlie cut through the loud chatter in the room. She hurriedly squeezed through the mass of people and took him aside. She looked, frankly, like shit. Her eyes were dark and weary, and her long ponytail had come partially undone, letting messy red bangs come down to frame a large coffee stain on the front of her shirt.

“Why such a big search party?” Leon asked, bewildered at the giant commotion. “The crime scene covers a lot of land, but isn’t this a bit overkill?”

“Tell me about it,” she groaned. “Since the news came out yesterday morning, everybody and their dog have been hounding us into finding the perp. The mayor apparently went to Boss’s house and demanded he put this together. Santana and I had to work overtime just to manage everything.”

They had to step aside for a gaggle of park rangers making their way to the overworked coffee machine. Leon looked on the crowd in disbelief.

“Do we even have funding for this?”

She shrugged and bit into a snack bar she had hidden in the coat pocket that was unaffected by the coffee stain.

“By the way, get ready for more journalists by the end of today. A cheeky reporter has somehow managed to leak crime scene info into the public just after you left yesterday. Watch out for her, because she's slippery. Her name's Rhodes I think.”

“Yikes,” Leon said.

“Anyway, I need you to deliver this document to Boss. He’s over at the mayor’s office and preparing material for tonight’s press conference. It contains sensitive info about the victim, and I don’t want to hear of any more classified shit ending up on the front page.”

“Got it,” he said, happy to get some clear orders in the middle of this mess. He was about to exit when he stopped short. “Wait, don’t we have interns to do stuff like this? Where is Derek anyway?”

Charlie gave him a perplexed look.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t know?”

“What?”

“Derek is Fitzgerald’s son.”

—-

By the time Leon left the overcrowded precinct, it had started to snow. He had expected the weather to discourage some of the folks to head to somewhere warm, but it seems he had underestimated the northerners absolute disregard for below-freezing temperatures. He certainly felt discouraged himself when he breathed in the cold mountain air, but he pressed on. At least the patrol car would warm him up for the short ride to the mayor’s office.

Leagues of snowflakes started covering everything in its path in a light white drizzle, like a powdered brownie. Pulling over to the main road and coming up to the central town square, he silently remarked just how serene the town looked under the snow. Because of the commotion, most townsfolk have migrated to the station or the church, seeking safety in numbers. Despite there being just one murder as of yet, the entire town had burst into a strange case of mass paranoia.

 _Say whatever you want about murder, at least it brings people together_ , he thought wryly to himself.

He had underestimated the air con systems of the old patrol car. He arrived at the town hall with the document as ordered, at the expense of freezing fingers, and a butt that would likely never recover from the frigid leather seats that just refused to heat up. Shivering, he made his way over to the reception and asked for the Sheriff while pretending he didn’t sound like he had just marched across the North Pole. The receptionist gave him a funny look but directed him to the mayor’s office with no objections.

The town hall was thankfully well heated. He felt his cheeks flush at the difference in temperature as he shook off some stray drizzle of snow that got in his hair. Unceremoniously, he walked into the ornate door that he was directed to.

The mayor’s office was likely worth more than the whole town and all her assets put together. It was a rather spacious room, dark brown wooden panels, shiny, polished floors, and warmly lit by a fireplace in the far wall. In the center, on top of an ornate Persian rug, a long dinner table decked for a full dinner was prepared. The high roof was supported by wooden beams that crisscrossed above his head in intricate geometric patterns, crowned by a rather sizable chandelier. At the end of the room, framed by a circular stained-glass window, the mayor sat by his desk, accompanied by Henry, who stood dejected and slumped with his hat in his hands. However, the sight of Leon seemed to cheer the sheriff up, and he strode over to him with open arms.

“Just who I wanted to see!” He exclaimed. Despite his cheerful demeanor, his eyes were even darker than Charlie’s had been, and his usual slight, but charming dishevelment had turned into a full-blown wardrobe disaster, making the guy look like he had just come out of a tumble drier. Leon had a feeling the guy hadn’t slept at all. “Mayor Keele, meet officer Kennedy. He was one of the first people at the scene. He has only been working here for a few weeks, but he’s already turning into one of our best people.”

That comment earned him a raised eyebrow from the man at the desk. The mayor was a fairly tall individual. As he rose from his desk, his full height had him easily towering over Henry and Leon with nearly a full head to them both. He was dressed formally like he was expecting a party and held himself with a poise that told Leon that the guy had likely been in the military in his youth. His jaw sported a full, neatly groomed beard, which framed his angular face and highlighted his dark, sharp eyes. Likely being in his mid-50’s, he didn’t show his age much, aside from a white streak at his temples, and some dark creases around his mouth and eyes. Most impressive was probably a large ruby brooch on his chest; a glistening jewel the size of an egg, surrounded by intricate silver patterns that seemed to form into some sort of initial, though he couldn’t see just what it spelled. Seeing this highly sophisticated individual next to the portly, scruffy sheriff was a near-comical juxtaposition of social standing.

“So you’re Mr. Kennedy. A genuine pleasure to finally meet you, despite the circumstances.” His voice was dark, smooth and exuded confidence. He reached out his hand in greeting, and Leon couldn’t help but notice an impressive set of rings on his fingers.

 _Being a mayor pays well apparently_ , Leon thought and accepted his hand with a firm grip of his own.

“I am sorry about Doctor Fitzgerald. I only had the chance to meet him once, but I was told he was a highly intelligent and welcoming individual,” Leon said, formality not leaving his voice once. He hoped the mayor didn’t notice how cold his fingers still were. “I won’t disturb you for much longer, Sir. I’m only here to give the sheriff a document, and then I’ll be on my way.”

“Of course, of course. I can only imagine how busy you and your colleagues are at the moment. Don’t let me keep you.” Keele stepped back towards the desk, an impressive piece of mahogany that was nearly entirely covered by a map of the area that Leon recognized to be the crime scene.

“Thank you, Sir,” Leon replied and stood at attention next to the sheriff. As if confirming Leon’s suspicion, the Mayor nodded back with the efficient rigidity that only a military man would have.

That seemed to end the meeting that his boss had with the government official, and Leon could sense that Henry was relieved to leave. They were about to head out when the mayor called out to them.

“Oh, and Mr. Haraldsen, don’t forget what we discussed. I want you back again tonight, so we can plan this further.”

Henry made a strange grimace but hid it from Keele when he turned around. “Ah… yeah. Don’t worry about it,” he reassured before he promptly turned back around and left. Leon gave Keele a final nod before he left as well.

Henry didn’t waste any time leaving the town hall. The man had shorter legs than him, but yet Leon had to half-jog to keep up with him. Yet again, Leon was surprised by the frigid temperatures of the outdoors. Henry didn’t seem to be bothered by the cold at all, walking briskly directly towards his car. Leon tried to catch his attention, but he seemed deeply lost in thought.

“Hey,” Leon called out, but the sheriff didn’t seem to hear him. “Hey, wait. Boss?”

Annoyingly, he was ignored. Leon could tell the guy could hear him and simply chose to completely blank him. The sheriff entered his car and was about to close the door on him, but Leon was faster and gripped it before it could smack shut. Henry bristled and looked at him with a look of irritation.

“What is it, Kennedy?” He snapped. The uncharacteristic coldness in his voice took him by surprise. Leon felt frustration well up inside of him, but he took a deep breath to hold it back. Now was not the time to be unprofessional.

“Your documents, Sir,” he clipped, handing the folder over. The formal procedures that had been drilled into him from the academy kicked in, and he delivered the message with an impersonal cadence that didn’t sound like himself. “Classified, high priority. Please read them before the press conference tonight. I will be at the office should you need me.”

Henry took the documents without a word, the anger now gone from his eyes. Leon bit his cheek. Perhaps he had been too cold himself. The sheriff had seemed to cringe a little at Leon’s indignant tone as he received the documents, seemingly regretting having snapped at him. Well, it was too late now. They’d have to sort this out at the pub or something later.

He turned to find his own car because God damn it, he needed to be somewhere warm right now. He took off first, and as he pulled out towards the main road, glanced over at the sheriff's car. He could see Henry browse the documents with his head hanging low and a weary look on his face.

—-

Before heading back to the office, Leon decided to take a slight detour, so he could cool off. The short exchange with his boss left him feeling frustrated and annoyed, and he didn’t want to bring that sort of energy into the office, not when everybody was stressed and overworked enough as it were.

He pulled over at an intersection near the suburban area and let the car slowly cruise the empty streets. The snow had pretty much covered every inch of the area now, and it was beginning to reach a couple of inches in height. He had driven on snow before and could navigate icy roads fairly safely, but he didn’t like the idea that this was going to be the state of the roads for the next six months or so. Maybe once he gets his next paycheck he’ll invest in some warmer clothes and an ice scraper for the windshield on his car.

Leon looked at the different houses as he drove past. They were pleasant looking homes, constructed by wood and lumber, not unlike the cabin he now called home. The warm light coming from some of the windows gave the neighborhood a warm and cozy vibe, which reminded him of a postcard. Far in the distance, he could see the jagged edges of Arcadia Peak towering over the valley. It was an ever-looming presence, like a frost giant watching over his microscopic denizens.

Near a sizable bungalow at the end of the cul-de-sac, he noticed Derek. The kid hadn’t spotted him yet and seemed preoccupied with fetching a large pile of stuff from a mailbox that was full of condolence cards and frozen flowers. It seemed in his idle drive, he had happened to find the kid’s home. Coincidentally, this might also be the victim’s home. Leon debated approaching him, but when he peered closer he saw how depressed he looked. He couldn’t imagine the intern feeling ready to speak with anyone yet. He made a mental note to visit him tomorrow with something nice, maybe a card or something.

\---

Since the news of the strange murder had come out before the police could make an official statement, the effects had begun to rear its ugly head in the small community. Just like the snow, paranoia had covered the village, suffocating any sense of safety that been there earlier. Newspapers flew about in the wind, spreading the word of the mysterious ‘' _Hook-Man_ ’’, the huge man-beast that killed an esteemed member of society, rampaging the local woodland with an industrial hook as his weapon of choice. As hyperbolic as the title made it seem, Leon couldn’t come up with better a way to describe the murder without outright lying to the public. The evidence left behind did make it seem like the poor guy had been offed by something big and very strong. But there had to be a more natural explanation? Right?

It looked like the school had closed earlier that day, and the driveway was filled with cars of concerned parents who were dead-set of driving their kids home. The grocery store was packed with stressed individuals, milling about with large bags of food. Those who didn’t immediately pack their bags and run home, seemed to orbit around the church, seeking safety in numbers.

Henry didn’t return to the station at all that day, so while Adeline was off at the crime scene they were all subjected to Santana’s command. The crowd at the police station had fortunately thinned by the time he returned, and he spent the rest of the day writing reports, managing the evidence that the search crew had collected, and bringing additional cups of coffee to the others at Santana’s orders. Every time he asked about progress on the case, he was usually given a vague answer or none at all. Charlie was too busy to notice him, and Santana would put him on menial tasks before he had any chance to ask him anything. All he had to work on was the evidence he filed and the crime scene he had seen first-hand.

Later that evening, the press conference was held at the community center just down the street, in a sweaty and packed room that made Leon feel like a tuna in a can.

That night he tiredly marched homewards, trying his best to keep his eyelids open. The ground was slippery, but lucky for him, most of the snow that had fallen started packing in the iciest areas, creating a crunchy upper layer. The roads may be safer to traverse on foot, but of course, that meant that it threatened to fill the ankles of his boots. His car was parked at the police station, so while the march was short from the two locations, he felt awfully underdressed for the weather. Yet, he could swear he saw several locals wearing thin jackets and jeans, when he felt like he should’ve arrived in a polar suit.

He stopped by the gas station on his way home, deciding he desperately needed a drink to wind down with. He had stopped using his painkillers a couple of days before, which certainly opened for many options. Maybe a scotch, or perhaps a bottle of Jack? He considered the beer Henry had given him, but any reminders about the less than pleasant encounter with his boss earlier that day set a damper for his appetite. The station was empty aside from himself and a young girl by the counter who looked bored out her mind. The low sound a soap opera whispered from somewhere behind the counter. He checked the alcohol rack. It was nearly depleted of options.

Rum it is, he murmured to himself and picked up the bottle along with a magazine about motorcycles. Before he forgot, he also picked up a card with a simple flower on it. Maybe he would get a chance to write something nice on it and hand it to Derek. After he paid for his items, he turned around when he saw a figure through the window. He stopped in his tracks and tried to make out the vague shape.

Lit by a single, dim street light, the lanky shape was partially cast in shadow. It was tall, humanoid, and standing straight with their hands lifted up by their head. They stood too far away to make out any distinguishing features other than their taller than average height. Leon moved closer, squinting to make out what they held. In their hands, he could make out the lens of a camera. They were looking right at him.

They were… taking pictures of him?

He shook the paranoia from his mind. Tourists and bird watchers often came by this town to visit Arcadia Peak, so spotting the odd photographer wasn’t out of the question. Tourists tended to find the strangest things photo-worthy.

Yet, the unmoving shape by the lamplight this far out of town didn’t sit well with him. Unlike a tourist, they didn’t seem interested in the station itself. Rather, the camera was aimed straight at him. The fact that he had caught the stranger in the act did not seem to bother them. Even weirder was that they were dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of slacks in the snow. The immense cold didn’t seem to faze them.

Puzzled, he called out to the cashier.

‘’Is the individual outside a frequent guest here at the station?’’

‘’Huh?’’ the golden-locked teen seemed to have been watching TV in the corner and was shaken out of her reverie when he called out to her. ‘’Who?’’

‘’The person outside. I’d like to know if you’ve seen them around here before.’’

‘’People come here all the time,’’ she argued.

He gave her a stern look. It didn’t look like she wanted to move, but the police badge at his hip caught her attention, which seemed to jog her motivation. Sighing in defeat, she eventually stood up from her comfortable corner. He impatiently waited until she finally made it over to the window where he stood.

‘’I don’t see anyone,’’ she concluded, popped her bubble-gum and unceremoniously marched back to her seat.

He scoffed. ‘’Oh, come on. You didn’t even look…’’

He turned back around to look at the street corner where the stranger stood. No one was there. Alarm bells rang in his head and the hairs in his neck bristled. Where did they go?

Quickly, he paid for his goods and exited the building, making a beeline for the streetlight he had spotted the individual. Sure enough, there were prints left behind. Adult, large - likely belonging to a man - which lead into the darkness of the forest. Pointing his flashlight into the depths of the brambly woods did nothing; there was very little moonlight to illuminate the evening and any attempt to look any further than a few feet was a lost cause. The falling snow was making a quick job to wiping out any remaining traces. He may have been foolhardy, but there were no chances he’d pursue the mysterious man in these conditions. He’d get lost and freeze to death. Giving up the search, he headed back to his car with his groceries and drove back home, trying not to think too hard about the unsettling encounter.  
\---

His quality of sleep had significantly worsened, making him feel inattentive and irritated most of the workday. Despite his foul mood, he decided to pay Derek a visit after work. The poor kid had gone completely AWOL following the murder, and whatever alone time he required started to border into unhealthy territory. The other officers at the station had been too busy to check up on the guy, so Leon took it upon himself to at least make sure Derek hadn’t done anything stupid. He still didn’t know him too well, yet the few moments they spent together was enough for him to feel the beginnings of a friendly connection. Maybe he just saw a lot of himself in him. Maybe Leon just wanted to talk to someone who wasn’t Charlie or Santana for once.

He pulled up at the pleasant looking home at the cul-de-sac. In his passenger seat was the card he bought the day before. He couldn’t come up with anything good to write on it, so he simply wrote:

_My condolences._

_Leon_

It was woefully basic, but it was better than nothing, though his rather rough handwriting didn’t help. He wasn’t super good with feelings, but he hoped this would do. As he walked up to the porch, he noticed an expensive looking snowmobile in the yard and judging my its tracks it had been used fairly recently.

It took only a few seconds for Derek to answer the door when he rang the bell. The intern looked a little worn, but not as depressed as he had been the last time, thankfully. Leon wasn’t sure if he had imagined it or not, but the other man seemed to light up when he saw him.

‘’Hey,’’ Leon grinned.

‘’Hey,’’ Derek replied, a little hesitantly.

‘’I uh… I just wanted to say hi and...‘’ God, he was awful at this. ‘’I just wanted to pay my respects. For your father, I mean.’’

‘’Oh,’’ Derek said. ‘’Uh, come in. I just made some tea, if you want some.’’

Leon accepted his offer and stepped inside the pleasant and quaint bungalow. It was toasty and warm, softly lit by old lamps and a fireplace in the far end of the living room. It was likely a generational home, judging by all the old furniture and decorations that belonged more in a pre-war cabin than a turn-of-the-millennium home. Very little of it seemed to belong to Derek, considering the kid was just 18, and he was surrounded by grandmother stuff. Perhaps he just liked vintage things.

‘’How is the station with me gone?’’ Derek asked, preparing a pot of English style earl grey for both of them.

‘’Chaos,’’ Leon chuckled. ‘’You’re lucky I joined when I did. They’re dumping all of the boring tasks on me because nobody bothered to learn how to file things in this god-forsaken county. You would think Helen would help me out considering she works in admin, but I think she’s spending most of her time baking rather than work to deal with the stress.’’

Derek laughed.

‘’Yeah, I learned to stop counting on her to help me out during the shoplifting spree in June. At least her lemon cakes are good.’’

‘’That’s probably the only reason she’s still employed,’’ Leon deadpanned and thanked the intern for the warm cup of tea. He wasn’t the biggest fan of the beverage, being more of a coffee guy, but anything to heat up his frozen fingers was a blessing.

The second thing that stood out was the surprising amount of photos of birds lined up on the walls. Taxidermied eagles and hawks were proudly displayed on the mantle of the fireplace, watching over the room with intense eyes. There almost no photos of any family members to be found. Derek seemed to pick up on this.

‘’My dad and I used to go birdwatching together. It was his favorite hobby aside from fishing and baseball. It was the reason he moved here, I think.’’

‘’Did he take all of these photos?’’

‘’Some of them, but most of them are from me when I took up photography at 13. That bluejay over there was my first.’’ Derek smiled and pointed at a very impressive shot of the bird on a pine branch. Leon was impressed; the kid had a good eye. Made him wonder why he was interning on a police station of all things when he had this talent.

‘’You seem pretty passionate about this,’’ Leon said.

‘’It’s pretty fun. I’ve gone out every weekend regardless of the weather so I could take more pictures. Though I haven’t taken a single photo since I started interning at the station.’’

They chatted for a little longer about trivial things. Leon made sure to dodge any topics that could lead them to talk about the case, which Derek seemed to appreciate. They were interrupted when the phone rang from the kitchen. Derek excused himself, leaving Leon alone in the living room. Left alone to his devices, he looked about the place. Despite how much he looked, there were literally no family photos to be found. Perhaps Derek and Jonathan had a bad relationship with their family? He let the thought go deciding it was none of his business and walked about the room.

On an ornate French dresser by the fireplace, he spotted a pile of cards similar to the one Leon had given Derek. He gave them all a quick look, recognizing several surnames to belong to families in the neighborhood and some from the workplace. The one that stood out the most was a rather expensive looking card, looking more like a paper picture frame than something someone had bought in the grocery store. Intrigued, he picked it up and observed the inside. Fixed to the inside of the card was an old looking photograph of a significantly younger looking Jonathan, standing side by side with an equally young looking, bearded man, dressed in military uniform. They stood in front of a modern looking facility with Arcadia Peak towering proudly over them. The caption was written in beautiful handwriting saying:

 _‘’Our deepest condolences._  
_Here is a photo of our first meeting, opening day of Travis Enterprises 1959._

 _Dearest,_  
_Mayor Alexander Keele.’’_

Leon didn’t recognize the stranger on the photo 'till he saw the caption. The mayor hadn’t changed much over all those years, though it was hard to recognize him with the military uniform on.  
So, the mayor was a close friend with the victim as well? And the building, Travis Enterprises, wasn’t that the closed down factory near the murder scene? Did the doctor work there in the past?

Pondering over these facts, he placed the card back down on the dresser and paced around the room. Outside the living room and down the hall he spotted a door with a sign on it that had been handmade, spelling out ‘’Darkroom’’. Apparently, that’s where all the photographs Derek took were developed. True to what the intern had said, the room likely hadn’t been used in a quite a while judging by the layer of dust that covered the doorknob, except… there was a clear handprint on it that proved otherwise. There was a camera on the counter next to the door that had been placed there recently. Leon frowned. Did Derek lie to him about not taking any photos since the start of his internship?

Leon brushed it off. What the kid did in his free time didn’t concern him. Even if Derek did indeed take photos recently, it didn’t matter to him or the case. And he certainly wouldn’t do so to stalk him. Yet, his uncomfortable experience from the day before resurfaced in his mind. That awful tingling feeling on his neck returned. Shaking the thought from his mind, he sat back down and drank the rest of the tea. He was just being overly sensitive and paranoid because of his sleep deprivation.

He bid his farewells shortly after Derek’s phone call finished. His discovery, though likely just a coincidence, made him feel queasy and he just wanted to go home. Despite the abrupt end to their meeting, Derek had visibly cheered up at their little chat, and his mood was infectious. Despite Leon’s irrational anxieties, he drove home in a brighter mood than he could remember having in weeks. Derek was a bright light in this whole mess, and it gave him joy to see that the kid had tackled the tragedy so gracefully. He quietly decided to pay him more visits when work would allow him.

His driveway had gotten icy due to a short spike of warmth earlier that day, but thankfully Henry had organized for someone to put gravel on the road for him. He hadn’t seen the chief since their cold exchange at the Mayor’s parking lot, but it made him glad to see that he was still watching out for him. His cabin looked so peaceful in the snow. Leon had been too busy feeling paranoid and anxious to appreciate just how pretty it was in the faint moonlight. He took in a deep breath of fresh mountain air. Like stormy clouds blown away by a summer breeze, he felt his mind clear up. In his refreshed state, he silently swore that he would try his best to make things good for this community again. The murder case would eventually be solved, and just like this snow, all his worries would soon melt away.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was with this chapter I realized that writing actually is a fun and rewarding hobby (who knew). I'm still learning, but at least I'm having fun while doing so. :p

The next couple of days passed with very little progress in the case. Not that he had direct access to it anyway. Very few DNA samples had been found at the scene (aside from the victim’s, of course), and whatever traces had been left behind by the culprit had turned out to be dead ends. Fortunately for the small police station, the initial mass panic seemed to have calmed down, reducing the crowd in front of the building to just a couple of reporters and some overly interested teens. After his last visit, there had still been no sign of Derek. The doctor’s funeral had to be put off for a few more days until the autopsy was finished, and since the body was stored in a different town, there was likely going to be at least another week till all the arrangements were made.

All of his duties in this murder case had been so simple and trivial, Leon started getting bored out of his mind. Likely, his colleagues dumped all the boring jobs on him because he’s the new guy, and Derek wasn't there to take them off his hands. Annoyingly, he had barely gotten any proper rest recently and felt irritable. After his stint with the strange photographer at the gas station, he had felt unnerved and paranoid, which only irritated him more.

‘’Kennedy, you’re taking night watch.’’

Santana unceremoniously tossed the rest of his cold coffee into the sink and rinsed it with very little intention to actually clean it. The day had gone by just like all the others, and now it was just Leon and Santana left at the station. He had started wrapping up some documents he had to take over from Derek and was ready to leave when Santana had dumped the news on him.

‘’What? I thought it was Charlie’s turn tonight,’’ Leon protested. He had barely gotten any sleep the night before, and the idea of having to stay up for most of the night was going to be a nightmare.

‘’Her ex is back in town and giving her grief, so she had to duck out,’’ Santana explained and put on his hat and jacket. The night was especially cold, but the large man didn’t seem like that was going to stop him. ‘’Adeline is off working out logistics with Boss and the town council, so she’s out. So that leaves you.’’

‘’What about you?’’ Leon challenged.

‘’None of your business,’’ Santana retorted and packed the rest of his things for the night. ‘’I need you to keep an eye on our guest in the cell tonight.’’

Leon had long given up on arguing with Santana. Just like his huge muscles, his will was made of steel. There was no changing the guy’s mind. Leon sighed, kissing his bed farewell for the night. At least the idea of being on watch with a prisoner made it a little less boring.

‘’Are the town drunks locked up for public nuisance again?’’ he asked, mostly making as much conversation as he could before Santana eventually would leave.

‘’Nope. A reporter who got a little too curious. The same one who had leaked the story the day of the murder.’’ Santana finished putting the last of his belongings in his duffel bag. ‘’She snuck into the vault and stole a piece of evidence this morning while you were out.’’

Leon was taken aback at that piece of information, and how casually it was given.

‘’You didn’t feel the need to mention that to me when I got back?’’

‘’Why would I?’’

Leon shrugged. ‘’Because… I work here?’’

Santana gave him an indignant look. Leon could tell the older man wanted to smack him for giving him lip but was clearly holding it back. He simply stuck to rolling his eyes and seemed to want to humor Leon, if only for a little bit.

‘’What did she steal?’’

‘’Some useless piece of equipment. When we looked over the locker, all of the bottles and syringes we found at the crime scene was gone,’’ the large man snorted. ‘’Not just an annoying reporter, but a drug addict as well. She seemed desperate for them.’’

‘’I didn’t see any syringes at the scene,’’ Leon remarked.

‘’That’s because they were found on Fitz’s body. Pockets full of them.’’

‘’Were they filled with anything?’’

Santana gave him one of his now-trademark annoyed looks. Leon’s increasingly eager questioning was beginning to irritate the bigger man, but he tried his best to look professional about it. He didn’t want the guy to wave him off just yet.

‘’Some. The only one that had any contents left has disappeared. Likely the work of an accomplice.’’

‘’So she wasn’t actually carrying the evidence you claim she stole?’’

‘’She was sneaking about the precinct, taking pictures and snooping in our stuff. She’s as good of a suspect as any.’’

Leon didn’t like the sound of someone being detained overnight for such a vague suspicion, especially since it might be an unlawful arrest, but he decided to drop the subject for the time being. He could probably report it later.

‘’Do we know what the contents of the bottles are?’’

‘’The hell do I know? The bottles were unlabelled and looked old as hell. Was probably part of Fitz’s weird collection or something.’’ Santana said.

‘’Wait, why would the doctor carry old, unlabelled medicine?’’ He asked, biting his lip. All this talk of drugs and syringes didn’t sit well with him, but his need to understand what was going on was stronger than the niggling sense of paranoia that started to surface in his mind.

The precious little patience he had earned with Santana had finally worn out, and his question went unanswered. Before Leon could press him any further, the large man hoisted his bag on his shoulder again and made for the door.

‘’Just make sure the slippery girl stays behind bars,’’ Santana commanded and left. The door slammed behind him and thus, Leon was left alone at the station.

—-

Aside from watching the surveillance screens that monitored the station, there wasn’t much to do. It wasn’t the first time he had had night duty, and it was just as dreadfully boring as the last times he’d done it. Normally, other stations would’ve hired more people who would take on these tasks, but unfortunately for him, the precinct was underfunded and understaffed enough as it was. Giving him and his co-workers overtime seemed to be the best they could muster for night security for the time being.

Outside, the wind howled like a pack of hungry wolves, and so did Leon’s stomach. He hadn’t planned for dinner due to the impromptu delegation, but Helen had thankfully left behind some sandwiches in the fridge with his name on it. It didn’t taste particularly nice, as the spread had a tangy aftertaste he didn’t like, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth and ate the whole thing. Making a mental note to thank her later, he washed the plate and made his way down the hallway. Outside was as blacker than void, interrupted by an unrelenting torrent of snowflakes as thick as ping pong balls. The snow that had previously reached his ankles now started to come up to knee level. He would likely have to wait for the snow trucks to clear the roads before he could go home. Driving in these conditions was a guaranteed crashed or stuck car.

Taking the stairs down to the basement, he arrived at the holding cells and the entrance to where the evidence room resided. It was more of a warehouse of traffic cones and other implements that they used during summer than any real detainment facility. In one corner was an old coffee machine that likely had been there since the Vietnam War, and a tractor that was at least a decade older. At the end of the hall was a window that was slightly open, letting in lots of cold air and snow. He briskly walked over and closed it, shivering slightly as the cold wind hit him like a sledgehammer. Even if he knew that there was a forest on the other side of that window, it was impossible to see due to the storm.

‘’And here I thought I was going to freeze to death. Are you the prince who will rescue me?’’ A voice smooth like butter came from behind. The one filled cell held a lithe woman, dark-haired who sported a giant pair of glasses. She was dressed professionally in a cardigan and pencil skirt, which wouldn’t look so out of place if she wasn’t wearing brightly colored, ratty trainers. She couldn't have been much older than 25. Despite her strange appearance, she seemed like a sharp individual, if not a little eccentric. Her face was rather angular, with a charming set of dimples around her mouth, which complimented her darker features quite nicely. She had been generously supplied with blankets for her stay. Santana was a hard-ass, but at least he wouldn’t let her freeze.

‘’With those bars between us, I think I’ll hold off on the rescue plan,’’ he retorted with folded arms. The strange lady smiled smartly and leaned forward and rested her elbows flirtatiously on the bars.

‘’Eh. Worth a try, right?’’ she shrugged with a cocked grin. She reached out a hand. ‘’The name’s Rhodes. Idina Rhodes. I’m an independent journalist. ‘Pleasure to meet you.’’

Leon regarded her outreached hand for a few moments before he took it with a firm grip on his own. ‘’Kennedy,’’ he simply said, not willing to give her anymore to work on just yet. She clearly picked up on his reservations but seemed to let it lie for the time being. ‘’Your accent. You from Kansas?’’ he asked.

‘’Denver. Though, my parents are both from Topeka, so my accent is a bit of a mess. Nice guess though,’’ she replied with casual ease. ‘’I take it you’re new in this town as well, Officer Kennedy?’’ she mused and leaned back against the wall, arms confidently crossed.

‘’That obvious, is it?’’ he said.

‘’Well, you don’t smell of elk and eggnog like everyone else here. Oh, and also your license plate is registered in DC, so I made my assumptions.’’

‘’Just like you assumed you could break into our evidence vault?’’

For a second, her smooth veneer fell away, but she quickly recovered. Idina tsked and leisurely paced back and forth in her tiny little space. While she was clearly the one at disadvantage in this situation, she still acted like she held all the cards. It reminded him of a certain someone, in a way he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about.

‘’It was a bad tip, is all. Besides, I didn’t steal anything.’’

‘’The missing pieces of evidence seems to tell me otherwise.’’

She scoffed. ‘’Don’t tell you’re listening to that gorilla of a man? Officer Santana is much more interested in protecting his ego than admitting that he’s wrong. Also, he purposefully opened the window in a blizzard just to spite me, so there’s that.’’

‘’It sounds like you two have a history.’’

She rolled her eyes. ‘’Hardly. Believe it or not, this is not the first time I’ve stepped foot in this town. Unfortunately.’’

Leon cocked an eyebrow. ‘’Unfortunately? I thought an independent journalist could go wherever they want.’’

‘’Officer Kennedy, I follow the truth, not tourist attractions. Sometimes in the pursuit of truth, you have to step into some questionable places.’’

‘’Like an evidence vault.’’

She scoffed. ‘’Oh please, I already told you I didn’t do it.’’

‘’Then can you explain why you were sneaking about the station?’’

‘’Just photos for my article. Seriously, this town doesn’t know how to handle a murder, much less an abnormal one. Photos of people off their rockers, barricading themselves in from a boogeyman - or Hook-Man - makes for great journalism. It would be hilarious if a man wasn’t dead,’’ she explained, though Leon still looked at her skeptically with folded arms. She sighed. ‘’If you don’t believe me, just check my camera rolls. I didn’t throw anything away before they arrested me either, you can match the dates on the photos with the police records. Is that sufficient?’’

He kept staring at her quietly for a few moments. The wind rocked the window as a strong gust passed through. If they didn’t both wear warm clothes in this basement, they would’ve been frozen solid.

Leon let his arms drop and so did his voice as he stepped closer to the cell. His mind blanked for a second, and before he could catch himself, he asked:

‘’Did you take photos of me at the gas station outside town four days ago?’’

Leon cursed himself internally. He didn’t mean to ask that question, and he cringed internally at his thoughtlessness. His lack of sleep must be messing with him.

‘’What?’’ Idina seemed taken aback at that question. Grimacing, Leon decided to push on with his line of questioning. He made this bed, so… might as well lie in it.

‘’Four days ago, night-time. I went home from work and saw a person with a camera, taking photos, directly at me. Was that you?’’ He knew he was coming off as very aggressive, but he couldn’t help it. Her smug attitude kept bringing up memories of a red dress and high heels, and he despised it.

‘’I- I have no idea…’’

‘’Listen here, I’ve been told that ever since the murder took place, you’ve done nothing but snoop in places you shouldn’t be. I’ve sensed I’ve been followed since the day I arrived here, and for the first time, I have reason to believe that my suspicions aren’t unfounded. And then you drop the little nugget that you knew what state I came from based on my license plate, which you wouldn’t have known unless you’ve actively chosen to gather info on me and God-knows who else you decided to stalk. So let me ask you again; was it you?’’

Her expression was not what he expected to get in return. Instead of confusion or guilt, she gazed off in the distance as some sort of realization had dawned on her.

‘’Then you’ve been… followed too?’’

Now it was Leon’s turn to be surprised. This was not the answer he expected.

‘’Wait… followed too? Do you mean…’’

She nodded, and she lowered her voice. ‘’Ever since I arrived, about three weeks ago, yeah. I’ve found my hotel room been searched, my other camera had been stolen… Like, I reported it to the police, but you guys have done fuck all to help me, so thanks for that.’’ There was no real malice in her voice directed at him, but her frustration was clear.

‘’Did you see anyone taking photographs of you at all?’’

She shook her head. ‘’No, mostly just stolen things. At first, I assumed there must be some bored teen here in town who gets his kicks from taking my stuff, but then the thefts started to escalate. One morning, my car was just... gone.‘’

‘’I wasn’t informed of any car thefts in the last two weeks,’’ he frowned. ‘’Nobody told me.’’

They both went quiet, mulling over this new information. Could it be that this woman spoke the truth? And what does that mean for him? He knew that the rest of the station was holding back from the case, but perhaps it is not just because he’s too green to work the case? As much as he hated it, she had yet to give him a reason to believe she was lying.

_Wait, a stolen car… Could it be…?_

‘’Hold on. You’re the owner of the silver Mercedes Benz we found at the crime scene, aren’t you?’’ he blurted out. Idina’s eyes widened in surprise at his sudden outburst.

‘’Y- yeah?’’ she replied. Then, she paused and looked up at him with a bleak, horrified expression. ‘’Wait. What? It was at the crime scene? My car was at the fucking _crime scene_?’’

He nodded apologetically. Leon realized he might have told her more than she should know. He didn’t imagine Henry or Adeline would be happy to learn he had shared this much information about the case to a suspect, but a tiny voice in the back of his head told him this might be an important clue. Idina paced her tiny cell as she processed the information. Connected to the murder or not, now she was in the thick of it. Even if she didn’t commit any crimes, there was now a piece of physical proof that inherently tied her to it. It was going to be a nightmare for her if they don’t find the real killer soon.

‘’We believed that whoever owned that car also rang the anonymous tip of the murder. That wasn’t you?’’ Leon asked.

‘’Why… The crime scene is so far up in the mountain, it takes like two hours to get there by car… something I didn’t have at the time of the murder. It was stolen!’’ She was furious, barely stringing the sentence together from her tightened jaw and clenched fists.

‘’Okay, okay. I believe you,’’ Leon pacified. ‘’To be frank, as far as I know, you have been our only lead so far. They’ll release you once they learn of your whole car theft situation.’’

‘’Well, they should’ve known! I reported the theft over a week ago!’’

‘’Alright, alright, I heard you the first time. I’ll look into it for you, okay?’’

She was absolutely seething, but thankfully his verbal olive branch was successful in calming that anger for the time being. Internally, he started to feel some budding frustration that her reported car theft hadn’t appeared in their records at all. Had there been a clerical error? Or was this the cause of something else? He shook the thought from his mind. Why was he even pondering over this? He worked at this place! He had the power to check up on this for her. Hell, it beats sitting at the desk and doing nothing.

‘’I’ll check the records upstairs and see if I can find your report, okay?’’

That seemed to diffuse her fury like blowing out a candle on a birthday cake. With a sigh, she sat down on her bunk and dragged a hand through her wavy, shoulder-length hair.

‘’Finally, someone with actual brains here.’’ She declared and regarded him earnestly. ‘’Thanks, Officer Kennedy.’’

‘’Leon.’’

‘’What?’’

‘’My name’s Leon. Leon Kennedy,’’ he grinned. Though he had a feeling she already knew that.

Tiredly, she smiled back. Whatever persona she had crafted to appear tough and intimidating seemed to wane for a few moments. ‘’Thanks, Leon.’’ Then she winked cheekily. ‘’Looks like you really are the prince who will save me.’’

Leon chuckled lightly and chose to not entertain her further with that line of thought, and gave her a tiny wave as he headed back upstairs and to the office where all their recent files were.

It was a small library with rolling shelves that had boxes of folders in it. The upper management was still pushing to digitize all the files they had archived, but little effort had been put into making it happen just yet. Thankfully, the archive room was neatly sorted and categorized, much due to his own effort.

He supposed that he should be glad that this little community had as low of a crime rate as it did. The Arcadia Hollow files archive would have been a lot smaller if it wasn’t for the extensive shoplifting and poachers in this area. It certainly made searching for grand theft auto much easier than it would’ve been in a larger city.

Remarkably, it turned out that doctor Jonathan Fitzgerald’s murder had been the first since the early ’60s. Any other reported deaths had all been accidental, either due to hunting, farming or hiking accidents. Interestingly, Leon noticed that the one murder that did happen in the ’60s was just a little under a mile away from the recent one; the strange factory building just off the lake. He recalled Henry briefly mentioning that the factory stopped operations around that time as well. Could it have a connection?

Before he fell into the rabbit hole of cold cases, he looked up the files of any car thefts. He would be lying if he felt any surprise that he found nothing of the sort. He put the box back on the shelf and meditated on it for a few seconds. The car was clearly connected with the murder somehow, so the absence of any records of it stood out to him.

In a box of evidence, he found Idina’s camera and some unused rolls, and he decided to pocket one to develop it later that night. He quickly booted up the computer and had a brief look there as well, just in case, but it also turned up with nothing. Either the lady was lying to him (which wouldn’t be a first), or someone on the precinct had chosen not to file it. He wasn’t sure which one he preferred.

Debating whether he confront her about it, his train of thought was cut short when he heard a loud crash followed by a shriek from the basement. The ground shook with the impact and dust fell from the shelves.

‘’What the…’’ he exclaimed, wide-eyed. Booming footsteps resonated through the walls. The screams - Idina’s screams - continued with horrified fervor. He could hear her muffled voice, begging and crying for help. The footsteps droned ever closer to her, it seemed. The sound of his own blood roared in Leon’s ears. Something monstrous was down there. The reporter was just downstairs, trapped in her cell. She needed his help.

Yet, he found himself frozen in the spot. His legs wouldn’t move. Flashes of images of mutated muscles and sinew intruded all of his senses, the smell of the damp sewers of Raccoon, the dead, milky eyes of shambling corpses snapping at his ankles at every turn.

_Not again. No. Please, not again._

He let go of the breath he didn’t know he held, a tight gasp forced through a constricted throat. His hands shook. Cold sweat permeated his every sense, as he stumbled back towards the wall in terror. His breathing was out of control. His vision darkened around the edges, and his head started feeling light. His gun was right there at his hip, yet he knew that it was useless. He was powerless. He had nothing.

‘’No. I can’t do this again. I’m not strong enough. I can’t…’’

_‘’Leon!’’_

Idina’s voice cut through all the walls and the pulsing in his veins.

She needed his help.

He took one shaky step against the door. Taking a few deep breaths, he felt the dark clouds clear from his mind. Right. He couldn’t afford to be scared now. She needed him. He had done this before. He could do this.

He steeled himself with a calming breath and a slap on the cheek, effectively pushing the fear out of his system, though deep down, he was terrified out of his mind. Readying his gun, he ran out of the archive room, bolted down the station premises, and down to the basement. Idina’s shrill screams increased tenfold in tandem with the loud booms of whatever had broken in. Sharply turning around the corner of the reception, he rushed down the stairs with trained footwork, weapon ready to fire. Having reached the bottom, he carefully placed himself by the side of the door and took a deep breath. Then another breath. Quickly turning around the corner with his gun trained at the source of the noise.

The wall where the window had been was completely caved through, letting in a torrent of cold gusts that made his eyes water. The lamps had completely cut out, shrouding the room in utter darkness save from the light from the staircase. The bars of the cell were bent and broken out of shape, leaving a huge hole.

Yet, the most terrifying sight was what was about to leave the ruined basement. Idina’s limp form hung face down from the arms of something absolutely enormous. In the dark, it was unclear what that something was, but it stood hunched so that its head wouldn't bump into the ceiling. Smelling of rot and dirt, the lumbering shape seemed to drag an industrial-sized hook from its fraying rope in one fist, and Idina in the other. A low, tortured moan, resounded in the room like the croons of a diseased ox.

Common sense escaped Leon’s mind for a hot second.

‘’Idina!’’ he yelled. God, he prayed she was alive.

His shout rewarded no response from her, but in his impulsive outreach for the woman, he had instead roused the attention of the enormous brute. He realized his mistake too late.

The hulking shape stopped in place and slowly turned with a rumbling groan. In the darkness, he couldn’t make out any features. The area where the face was supposed to be was absolutely blank, and ghastly white that he could tell from the low light. Whatever or wherever the face was supposed to be, the body language telegraphed everything Leon needed to know and it sent a chill down his spine. The monster was aware of his presence. And it wanted to destroy him.

‘’Fuck.’’

The dark shape lumbered toward him with a brisk pace that drowned out every other sound in the vicinity. Leon felt every step vibrate through his body. In his mind’s eye, he saw the black trench coat and the grey eyes, determined to slaughter and maim.

Leon fired off one, then two test shots. They hit the creature squarely in the forehead. The bullets made their impact, but just like with the man in the trench coat and the mutated beast that was Birkin, it yielded no response. Leon let out a frustrated cry. He should’ve expected that to be the case. It lumbered ever closer. Next, he fired two shots at its knees. No cigar. The space between himself and certain death grew smaller than he’d like, and he fired another shot at its chest, recalling the Trench Coat’s weak spot had been there. No need to remind himself that he had only successfully killed the guy using a rocket launcher, unlike now, that he only had his 9mm and 5 bullets remaining to his name. It was like shooting one of those paper dummies at the firing range; the slugs connected with their target in all the correct spots, yet the response from the recipient was non-existent. That confirmed one thing that Leon learned about this creature; it did not feel pain. But Leon certainly did.

He ducked out of the way as the hook was struck in his general direction, and he proceeded to land in a stack of traffic cones with just as much grace as one would expect one to crash into a pile of hard plastic. He didn’t have time to recover before another strike fell his way, and he rolled towards the creature, barely escaping from the impact of the rusted hook into cones. Using his momentum, he got to his feet and made some distance from the creature and fired one more shot, mostly out of optimism, but with the same result. Four bullets left. Idina’s slumped form did not rouse from the commotion, and he had a sinking feeling she might never do so.

The darkness and chaos made him feel disoriented. In between the sleep deprivation, the noise and panic, he started making rookie mistakes. Leon soon realized that he had dodged out of the way of the monster, but in the heat of the moment he had rolled the wrong way; the only door out of there was blocked. He was now stuck between the raging blizzard and the monster. His eyes darted around the room. The broken tractor, the coffee machine, the endless supply of useless junk; there was little that could help him. A red canister caught his attention. A fire extinguisher.

_Perfect._

He darted for the extinguisher and barely escaped another strike that made a small crater in the concrete floor where he had previously stood. He grabbed the implement and squeezed the crank, hard. The white plume of thick powder exploded before him, dousing his assailant. To Leon’s adrenaline-fueled glee, it seemed to have an effect, as the brute seemed to halt mid-step, and attempted to wave away the smoke. His joy was cut short, as the hook cut through the barrier and connected with his midriff. The impact sent him flying, and it could’ve killed him if it didn’t hit the fire extinguisher first. Leon’s back connected with the wall with a blow so hard he lost his breath. Staggering, he made his way back on his feet, an unsuccessful endeavor when the hook connected with the back of his knee and tugged.

The rusty implement snagged on his clothes and dragged him towards the monster, and the back of his head knocked with the floor when he fell back down. Either it was a miracle, or just pure instinct that drove him to fire one more bullet at the creature’s hand, and it dropped him for a brief moment. It was enough for him to get back on his feet, and duck out of the way from an incoming stomp.

The fire extinguisher had punctured when the hook knocked into it and kept spewing powder in the room. Leon’s once brilliant plan had now backfired; his eyes stung and he held back coughs as he breathed in the plumes. For some reason, it didn’t affect the monster. Did it not breathe? Or have eyes?

The analytical side of his brain was promptly taken over by his survivalist side, and narrowly escaped another kick from the beast. Somehow, the monster had anticipated he would do so and threw the hook in the direction of his dodge. The metal frame surrounded his neck, before it was pulled, and dragged Leon off his feet again. This time, he was pulled at an angle where he couldn’t retaliate, and he uselessly grasped and tugged at the hook as he was pulled closer and closer. His windpipe was forced shut, and he struggled to breathe. His feet scrambled uselessly at the floor trying to gain purchase. Before he knew it, he was held up in the air from his neck. He attempted to pull himself out, but the bend of the hook was just too narrow in its suspended state.

The brute held him up from the rope and leaned in closer as if to scrutinize him. That’s when Leon realized that the monster was covered with a canvas bag from head to shoulders. That explained the lack of reaction from the extinguisher. Leon dangled from the rope, kicking and grasping the hook so that his weight wouldn’t strangle him. The monster unceremoniously dropped the limp body of Idina on the floor and used the free hand to grasp Leon’s chest with a crushing grip. It squeezed so hard that Leon couldn’t even scream. In a last-ditch effort, Leon found himself jab the muzzle of his gun right into the sack that covered the monster’s face and fired the rest of his bullets. The surprise seemed to work, and it stunned the monster, launching it into a confused frenzy. In anger, the creature threw Leon into the far wall before burying its face in it enormous hands in frustration.

Leon wasn’t able to catch himself when he hit the floor. Something made a cracking sound at the impact, though through his adrenaline he couldn’t tell what. His vision whited out. The smell of the oiled machinery of Umbrella’s underbelly invaded his memory. In the back of his mind, he heard the banging noises of Birkin’s metal bar as it connected with the steel pipes and fences. He shook the memory from his mind.

Now free of the monster’s grasp, he sucked in a wheeze as air entered his system again. Stars sparkled across his vision, blending seamlessly with the torrent of snowflakes that blew into the destroyed basement. Crawling on all fours, he made his way away from the beast. Fortunately for him, it seemed dizzy from the direct gunshots to its face and it gave him more time to recover from the fall.

Idina remained unmoving on the floor across from him, her face obscured from view by the large foot of the beast. Is she really dead? Leon staggered back to his feet, wanting to call out to her, but he didn’t want to rouse the monster out of its distracted state. Given the canvas bag over its head, it likely had low vision or none at all, something he could use to his advantage.

Leon took a step forward and a little to the side when he nearly tripped over his own legs in a daze. Sleep deprivation and the pummelling he’d received was a combination made in hell, and it did him no favors. God, he was in terrible shape.

This isn’t good.

With zero bullets left, the handgun was useless now. Unless...

He lifted his arm in preparation for the throw and nearly screamed when it responded with a merciless jolt of pain. He braced himself with grit teeth, trying his best not to make any noise. His right arm was totally immobilized from the pain, and somehow only determination kept his injured hand gripped around the gun’s sweaty handle.

No time to check up on the injury. Big Ugly looked like it was regaining its bearings, and it was not happy. Carefully and quietly he stepped to the side. With his left, non-dominant hand, he threw the weapon across the room and hit the tractor in the corner with a loud clang. True to Leon’s suspicions, the monster’s head snapped up and bounded over to the source of the noise.

Leon didn’t skip a beat and dashed over to Idina’s body. Carefully, he awkwardly turned her body to face him with his working arm and put his fingers on her pulse. For several agonizing seconds, he tried his best to sit still while the monster searched for him at the other end of the room. Silently, he begged for her to be alive. A few more moments, he finally found the correct vein and…

He let out a sigh of relief. She wasn’t dead, just knocked out. A small trickle of blood ran from her likely broken nose, and a bruise was forming at her left temple. The monster was still searching for him, and he used the diversion to attempt to lift Idina’s unconscious body. Thankfully, she was a small and light individual. Taking her arms across his shoulders in an attempt at fireman’s carry, he hoisted her up as best he could with only his left hand to anchor her. Unfortunately for him, his arm violently protested with his attempts to lift her. When the weight of her body hung over his injured arm, he felt the shifting of bones in his shoulder. The wave of agony that washed through him almost knocked him out cold there and then. In pain, he was forced to drop her back down. He touched his shoulder in the offending area and hissed when it responded with a white hot burn.

Ouch. So that’s where the cracking sound when he hit the floor had come from.

He didn’t have much time left before the creature would come back. In a ditch effort, he grabbed her left arm in his hand and hooked it over his working shoulder and started to drag her towards the door. Hopefully, the doorway and staircase would be too narrow for the creature to be able to follow. Praying to whoever was watching him upstairs, he stumbled clumsily towards the door with Idina in tow. Her dead weight against his back felt like torture, but he pushed through with grit teeth. Any attempts at silence was a near impossible feat, though fortunately for them both, Idina had been dropped near the exit.

Through perspiration and pain, he ignored the beating he’d taken to the best of his ability as he carried her away from the creature. His head was racing with thoughts about escape routes and distraction strategies. He knew next to nothing about this monster, or how much of the experience he had gained from Raccoon would apply to this situation. All he could be certain of was that he needed to get the hell out of here, and he needed to do so fast.

Leon didn’t notice a wet patch on the floor that had been covered in extinguisher powder and lost his footing again. With the extra unbalanced weight, he was unable to catch himself or Idina as they collapsed onto the floor, knocking into a pile of debris. The noise of the crash was deafening. The creature that had been searching for them, snapped around with its hook brandished in the pale moonlight.

 _Shit._ No time for discretion.

He scrambled to his feet and dragged the young reporter as fast as he could, but a sudden, meaty fist into his solar plexus put a quick end to that idea. The punch sent Leon flying, hitting the door to the staircase that thankfully cushioned his fall by being knocked off its hinges. Out of breath and out of luck, Leon collapsed as he with blurry eyes witnessed the creature in the light for the very first time. It was a large man, though in shape only. It was dressed in stained overalls that had been ripped to shreds. He could see remains of cloth and rope hang off its broad shoulders, and its ginormous torso was littered with scars and boils. Blood spewed from scratches and rashes, staining the little functional cloth that was left with brown, black and red. The rotten stench that came off it like a runaway train nearly forced Leon to heave from just being close to it, if he wasn’t already going to do so from the blow to his midriff.

He was totally defenseless, powerless… Useless.

Leon could do nothing but watch as the creature picked up Idina and heaved her over its decayed shoulder. Seemingly satisfied with having recaptured the woman, the monster then looked at him. It grabbed his leg and dragged him out across the basement floor. Powerless to stop it, he slid towards the large hole in the wall, and he sensed the cold snowflakes hit his skin. Stepping closer with booming steps, the monster lifted its hook high. Leon struggled to find purchase on the ground, and with one arm immobilized it was a slow going.

He was going to die here.

The constant roar of the storm was interrupted by the low hum of an engine. It grew closer and closer at a high speed, until it entered the room accompanied by a glaring white light. Leon shielded his eyes from the light, and the creature turned around at the distraction.

‘’Leon! Are you oka… What the fuck is that?!’’

It was Derek, who had driven his snowmobile into the breached wall of the basement, and the machine slid into the room with trained expertise. It left a ribbon-shaped path in the snow that had been blown inside from the storm. He was a blessed sight. Dressed in a fur-collared, bright red parka, that only enhanced his flushed cheeks from the cold, he was a far cry from the skinny, timid kid from just a few days ago.

‘’You need to get out of here, now!’’ Leon shouted, shakily getting onto his feet. Derek didn’t need to be told twice, and revved the engine and skilfully turned it around so it could drive out again. He reached out his hand. The monster was not pleased at the intrusion, and let out an earth-shaking bellow.

‘’Get on, hurry up!’’, Derek yelled.

‘’But, Idina…’’ Leon argued but was interrupted by a fist that punched the brick wall behind him.

‘’There’s no time! Get on!’’ Derek barked.

Battered and bruised and in no state to argue, Leon made his way over as fast as he could to the snowmobile. The bright light was his only anchor in his blurry vision. He felt rather than heard the booming footsteps of the monster charging towards them. In the rush, he didn’t remember jumping into the seat and holding on for his dear life as the engine roared and sent them flying out of the basement and into the dark blizzard.

‘’How… How did you know?’’ Leon asked through chattering teeth. He braced his right arm in between himself and Derek’s back, thankful that the frigid temperatures dulled the pain for the time being.

He was not at all dressed for the weather. The wind stung, biting his cheeks, and poking through every fiber of his shirt. It would’ve felt much worse if his chest wasn’t protected by the back of Derek’s parka. He observed street lights zooming by, though in the dark and snow, he had no idea where they were going. The loud footsteps remained steadfast behind them. Eventually, they grew quieter and quieter, until all was left was the wind.

‘’I was out to get some groceries when I heard the noise from the station. I had to make a couple of rounds till I saw the giant hole in the basement. And when I got there, I saw you and that monster. Speaking of, _what the fuck, dude?!_ ’’

‘’Just get me out of this cold and I’ll tell you everything.’’

He was shivering, though he couldn’t tell from the cold or adrenaline. He felt like he was in a daze; feeling hyper-aware of every sensation and sound, yet he registered very little of it. It reminded him a lot of being drunk. He barely registered the many bumps in the road, or when Derek would hold on to his wrist whenever he made a sharp turn to avoid having him fall off.

‘’Why did you even go out for groceries in this weather?’’ Leon asked. ‘’What could you possibly need so badly?’’

Derek didn’t reply immediately, bringing Leon to believe the kid simply hadn’t heard him. Then he heard the kid turn slightly, sounding a little embarrassed:

‘’... I really wanted Tater Tots.’’

Leon couldn’t hold his laugh. Derek snorted as well. It was small, but eventually, their giggling grew and grew until they both rode on a high-speed snowmobile, laughing their asses off. The whole situation was ridiculous in Leon’s eyes. Being tossed around like a ragdoll by a monstrous brute and nearly getting killed, witnessing the kidnapping of an innocent, just a few months after his stint in Raccoon... only to be rescued by Derek, who decided to risk his life in a blizzard because he was hungry. The absurdity of it all, combined with his adrenaline-fuelled high, he just couldn’t help but laugh.

The rest of the ride went by in a blur. In the darkness, he had no concept of time, or where the two of them were going. Every time he felt his grip on Derek’s parka loosening in his exhaustion, Derek shook him back into awareness. It could’ve been five minutes or an hour, but the next time he blinked, he was in a warm living room, wrapped in blankets and smelling disinfectant from the soft cotton that dabbed his forehead. He let out a sigh of relief. He was safe for now.

The concern about the giant creature and Idina’s kidnapping remained, but for now, all he could do was lie down and let the darkness take him. Just 5 minutes of rest and then he’d be up to sort this out. Just 5 minutes...


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been up to my neck with work lately, so I had sadly very little time to work on this! I've also had to rewrite rather large chunks of this because I struggled to make it flow the way I wanted it to, and it's still not quite there imho. However, if I keep noodling on this chapter it's never gonna get finished, hahah. I guess you could consider this as a kind of intermission and case summary before the action picks up again. I hope you enjoy it, and thanks for your patience!

‘’What the fuck was that thing?’’

Derek paced the living room stiffly, and carefully peeked out the windows between the curtains with wide eyes. Whatever was left of the foolhardy bravery from earlier that night had escaped him, and now the kid was verging on a panic attack. Leon could hardly blame him. This was the first time Derek had seen anything of the kind, and the reality shattering revelation was going to take a little while to settle in. Better let the kid be and let him process it in his own time.

While he felt rattled from the experience himself, part of this whole scenario felt all too familiar. It was ridiculous to imagine that dealing with monsters that were 100 times stronger than him was something he would grow used to, but here he was. Instead of the impending dread and panic that he had gotten so familiar with in Raccoon, he instead found himself analyzing the near-death encounter earlier that evening. In his mind’s eye, he pieced together the little information he could glean from the monster’s every move, with every intention of facing it again, and hopefully killing it this time.

They had arrived back at Derek’s house. Due to all the fresh snow, it would’ve been inaccessible if it wasn’t for the mobility of the snowmobile and a handy snow plow that everybody in this town seemed to have within arm’s reach. Apparently, Derek had taken several detours for as long as he could to throw their pursuer off their trail, which Leon admired. The snow would likely have covered their tracks by the time they made it to the house, which likely made them as safe as they could be for the time being. He must’ve been really out of it, because he barely noticed the passage of time while on the snowmobile. The phone lines were down due to the storm, (because, of course it was) so they had no way of alerting the others. They had no choice but to weather the night, and search for help at daybreak.

Derek wasn’t a doctor like his late father, but he knew some basic first aid and had a sizable range of medical equipment in his house. Much to Leon’s dismay, the injury in his shoulder was likely a fracture, which meant that his arm was going to be out of commission for a while. They put his arm in a sling and let it be until they could reach for outside help.

‘’I’m not quite sure. But I have a suspicion,’’ Leon said, doing his best to open the packet of ibuprofen with one hand. God, his shoulder hurt. ‘’I’ve seen something like this before. Unfortunately.’’

‘’What do you mean? You knew that abominations like that existed?’’

Leon nodded.

‘’Yeah, and no. I’ll tell you all I know. First of all,’’ Leon paused to take the pills and swallowed. ‘’Monsters are real.’’

‘’Yeah, duh. Tell me something I don’t know,’’ Derek exclaimed and slumped down into a well-worn chair. He took Leon’s glass and poured him some more water. Despite his apparent distress, the kid was awfully considerate. Derek fiddled tensely with his cardigan, and he seemed to try to control his nerves by taking deep breaths.

‘’I’m pretty sure that we just found your father’s killer,’’ Leon said. Derek gave him a sharp glance, and his fist gripped the fabric of his cardigan harder.

‘’Are you sure?’’ Derek asked tentatively. ‘’I’m pretty sure that was Bigfoot, not a man.’’

‘’Who said that the murderer was a man in the first place?’’ Leon shot back, rhetorically. ‘’By any means, your father’s murder was not something a normal person could do. I didn’t want to believe it myself, but we both saw the proof in the flesh tonight.’’

‘’Then… What the fuck was that thing? It was so huge and… the woman and the hook and… God, the _stench_!’’

Leon leaned back in the couch, biting his lip as another wave of pain and discomfort hit him as he moved.

‘’I’m afraid I might have an idea what it was. Remember Umbrella Corporation?’’

Derek nodded. ‘’Yeah. Pretty hard to forget a big name corporation responsible for a lethal epidemic like in Raccoon City.’’

‘’What if I told you that Umbrella created monsters just like it?’’

The kid in front of him sent him a look of mild skepticism, but he could tell that part of him believed what he was saying, despite how unbelievable it all seemed. Leon continued:

‘’That giant creature - or the Hook-Man as the papers call him - showed signs of mutations that might be the direct or indirect result of biological engineering. Like, how I shot him in the head several times, but it hardly made a dent. He also has superhuman strength and can probably regenerate from any physical damage done to his body. It's all very similar to the stuff Umbrella was up to.’’

“How do you know all of this anyway?” Derek asked, bafflement lacing his tone.

“I was there,” Leon admitted and did his best to pull his T-shirt down without disturbing the sling, revealing the faint zombie bite scars on his neck. ‘’At Raccoon. I saw it all first hand.”

Derek observed his bite marks with a frown. Leon had gotten them after hesitating to shoot Marvin’s shambling corpse back at the police station. Much to his luck, the bites had only been skin deep and would heal completely in time. On the flip side, he wasn’t quite sure if the memory of Marvin’s infected corpse overpowering him and ravenously snapping for his throat was going to go away anytime soon. Without dwelling on his harrowing encounter, he continued:

‘’I have a suspicion that the Hook-Man is affected by a viral strain much like what I saw in Raccoon. And the fact that he went after Idina is not a coincidence either. The monster was too dumb and slow to execute more than any basic motor actions, so it might be controlled from some outside force. He could be programmed or incentivized by someone to do their dirty work for them.’’

Derek had been listening intently, fiddling with a stray piece of stray bandages that lay unused on the table. Leon let him process the information in his own time. It’s a lot to take in. The existence of another bio-engineered abomination certainly felt daunting. He recalled the memory of the Tyrant’s machine-like footsteps resounding throughout the police station. While Leon eventually learned to deal with the zombies, every encounter with Tyrant or Birkin had ended up with him tucking tail. They were both nearly indestructible, Birkin much more so than the Tyrant had been. He didn’t enjoy entertaining the idea that there were more creatures out there like them.

‘’So far, the killing and the kidnapping has been targeted and planned out. It's too convenient to be just random attacks. Idina knew the location of the chemicals that were in your father’s possession, so it makes sense to kidnap her. She might have more information that whoever controls the Hook-Man wants. Everyone else is just expendable witnesses.’’

Derek sat there in his chair, visibly distressed. The shocking truth of his father’s murder revealed to him made him start to spiral into an emotional turmoil. In a burst of anger and confusion, he stood up and started pacing the room again. ‘’Why didn’t you tell anyone about that shit? We could’ve avoided all of this if you just told us! My dad could’ve been...’’

‘’And if I did, would you believe me?’’ Leon scolded and rose from the couch, looking down at Derek sternly. ‘’The whole Umbrella disaster is covered in lies. The government is doing their hardest to make sure it stays that way. I was a key witness, and they made sure I was wrapped up in so many non-disclosures that if I ever slipped, they would make sure I mysteriously disappear, just like everyone else involved.’’

Just like Sherry.

Derek was a little taller than him, but that didn’t diminish the dominance Leon established in the room as he stared him down. His tone softened this time, realizing that he may have snapped a little harder than he meant to.

‘’The Raccoon City incident was so much larger than you and me. The fact that monsters like this still exist means that the threat is still very much real.’’

‘’I… okay. I’m sorry.’’ Derek murmured meekly. His sudden anger seemed to have vanished as soon as it had arrived. Now he just looked tired. ‘’It’s just… It’s unbelievable.’’

Leon tiredly slumped down into the couch again. Lord, he felt like he had been beaten like a carpet and set to tumble dry. His right arm was going to be a problem. A constant wave of pain radiated throughout his body, and his shoulder was ground zero. At least when he had been shot in Raccoon, it had been nothing but a flesh wound. After the following infection had been dealt with, he had been fit for duty nearly immediately. Now, however, he had nearly zero mobility in his strongest arm. If he was to deal with this monster business, then he needed Derek’s help.

‘’It’s okay. I wouldn’t believe me either,’’ Leon chuckled humorlessly and then winced. ‘’Do you have anything stronger? My shoulder is kicking my ass.’’

Derek handed him an unlabelled bottle with the simple comment that it belonged to the doctor’s old stash. It was a local brew, and it tasted like gasoline.

‘’You’re saying that the monster... the Hook-Man, was being controlled, right?’’

‘’Very likely, but I’ve been wrong before,’’ Leon said, taking a shot of the foul tasting moonshine. He felt how the liquid burned itself down his throat like a flaming arrow. It was unpleasant, but at least it dulled the pain, which was a blessing in his eyes.

‘’So what you’re saying… Umbrella is still around?’’

Leon considered it for a moment. Frankly, he had seen no trace of Umbrella involvement ever since he arrived in town. After the whole Raccoon disaster, there had been issued a nation-wide mass destruction of Umbrella’s products, so there had been nothing in the pharmacies or stores he had visited. Every employee had likely been sacked, relocated or arrested at this point. It was like any trace of the company had been wiped from the face of the earth, aside from the occasional broadcast trials and reports on TV.

‘’No, I don’t think that’s the case,’’ he said, eventually. ‘’Though I wouldn’t be surprised if some of their products had made it out of the city before it was bombed. Some samples might have made it out in the chaos. Perhaps someone who worked with them before had a hidden stash, though considering their high security it might be a long shot. ’’

The possibility that Umbrella wasn’t the only pharmaceutical giant that secretly worked on bioweapons occurred to him, but he forced down the thought. One company being behind this fuckery was much more preferable than two.

A sudden memory entered his mind. His one meeting with doctor Jonathan Fitzgerald. The guy had been so curious about Raccoon and Leon’s involvement there before Henry saved him from answering. The man seemed to know a lot more about him and his involvement in the city than he let on. Added to the fact that the doctor’s body had been located with bottles of unidentified chemicals in his possession… could it be a coincidence?

‘’Did your father ever pay a visit to Raccoon at all the past few years?’’

‘’I… I’m not sure. The longest times he would be away was for fishing trips for a few weeks at a time.’’

‘’Did he leave at any point before September this year?’’

‘’Yeah, he and some friends met in Boston for a game.’’ Derek was sincere, and Leon could tell that the young intern understood what his line of questioning was meant to insinuate. ‘’But there’s no way he was involved with Umbrella. He may have been a doctor, but he was just running his own private clinic. I don’t see how he could’ve been doing work for them.’’ He was distressed and defensive, and Leon hated bringing up the subject like that. He clearly cared for his late father, and the subject didn’t make things any more pleasant for either of them.

‘’Do you have any record of those trips? It could be photos, gas or shopping receipts, letters, anything.’’

‘’I’ll check,’’ he said, apprehensively.

‘’Did he have any enemies?” Leon asked, adjusting his sling tensely. The intern had found a box with the doctor’s belongings, probably handed to him after the autopsy. From it, he fetched a brown leather wallet. He proceeded to search it for receipts or other clues.

‘’Umm,’’ Derek said, partly focused on the contents in the wallet. ‘’Aside from Yankees supporters? Not that I know of.’’

Leon rose from the couch with a groan. His ribs had taken a pounding. They were likely just bruised, but boy, did it hurt. Derek looked like he was about to tell him to lie back down but Leon shot him a look that gave no room for argument. He made his way over to the box and gave the contents a quick glance. There were only a couple of objects inside, not including the wallet that Derek searched. Broken glasses, a checkbook, some mints. The keychain that Leon had found by the bear’s carcass was there too, though significantly cleaner than he had found it. He observed it closer: a pair of worn keys that likely belonged to the house, another key to his clinic, there seemed to be a smaller looking one that likely belonged to some kind of safe. They were all connected by a single, garish looking cartoon animal that looked like it belonged to a fast food chain.

‘’This your dad’s favorite animal or something?’’, he asked, holding it up.

‘’Oh,’’ Derek said. ‘’I remember he complained about losing his keys through the grates in front of the clinic too often, so he might just have picked that one up to make it too big to fall through the gaps. It’s the first time I’ve seen it though, so it must be recent.’’

Leon hummed in response and put it back in the box. The cartoon animal did look familiar, but he shrugged it off, deeming it irrelevant. Leon picked up the checkbook and brought it back to the table by the sofa. Fetching a pencil that happened to be nearby, he opened the flap of the old book and started scribbling lightly over the paper.

‘’Uhh… Leon? What are you doing?’’

‘’Just covering all our bases,’’ Leon replied. It was a little tricky to keep a consistent gradient with his left hand, but eventually the results he was looking for started to appear. Displayed in faint white letters against the grey graphite, Leon could see what had been written in the checkbook before the man had been killed.

‘’Was he a big spender?’’ Leon asked, still trying to get a clear read of the text. In the dim light, it was easier said than done.

‘’Dad? Hardly,’’ Derek snorted. ‘’The biggest investment he had ever done was probably me and my college fund. He would occasionally splurge on fishing gear or camera equipment for me though. Built the darkroom for me himself. Other than that he would save as much money as possible.’’

Derek grinned melancholically as fond memories seemed to overtake him. For a moment, he was lost in reminiscence, holding onto his late father’s wallet like it was going to drift away from him at any moment.

‘’Can you read this? It’s too dark over here.’’ Leon said, shaking Derek out of his reverie. He felt a little bad for doing so, but there would be time to mourn later.

Obliging to his request, Derek took the checkbook and brought it under the lamplight. The electrical equipment flickered in the room for a second as a particularly strong gust of wind blew past the house. Leon recalled with a shiver how lucky he had been to be rescued when he did; even if he had run away from the giant creature, his only option would be to freeze to death. Derek may not have realized it yet, but Leon owed him his life.

‘’It’s too faint to make out everything, and the name is too unclear to tell, but...’’ Derek mumbled, but then his face froze into a stupefied mope. His expression seemed to go through several stages of shock, anger, confusion, and bewilderment. Then he exclaimed: ‘’Where the fuck did he get this kind of money?’’

‘’What does it say?’’ Leon pressed.

‘’Two hundred thousand dollars,’’ Derek breathed, holding up the checkbook as if it had personally offended him. ‘’Two hundred thousand dollars! We… we never had that kind of money. Where… where did he get all this?’’

‘’Check the date. It could be important,’’ Leon pushed. He kept his voice as firm as he could while the kid seemed to go through several kinds of crises at once. There was always a chance the victim had just taken out a loan before the check was written, or perhaps it was part of an inheritance. Regardless, they were quickly learning things about the doctor that they were never intended to learn, and it was upsetting his son deeply.

‘’It says... ‘’Derek huffed, dragging his fingers through his hair. He seemed to struggle to focus. ‘’November 29th. But that’s…’’

‘’The day he was killed.’’

Frowning, Derek put down the book, not wanting to look at it anymore.

‘’I don’t even want to know,’’ he sighed defeatedly. ‘’I don’t know how, or why this is happening, but I don’t want any of it. You can keep going, I just need to sit down.’’

Wearily he fetched the wallet from the box again and handed it to Leon, slumping down into his chair again shortly after. With a fatigued sigh, he leaned back and covered his face with one arm. Without having to be asked twice, Leon retrieved the receipts and gave them a quick look over. Most of them were completely irrelevant to the case, mostly consisting of grocery shopping and the purchase of the occasional box of tackle for his fishing trips. Much to Leon’s luck, the good doctor didn’t seem to clean his wallet often, having several bits of paper dating back to the summer of ‘97. This made it way easier for him to tell when one particular ticket stood out, seemingly out of place in the otherwise ordinary bunch.

‘’Arklay shooting range,’’ Leon stated. ‘’He paid a pretty handsome sum for a lesson there, it seems.’’

‘’He was a gun enthusiast. It's not too rare of him to go out with Chief Haraldsen and practice their gunplay.’’ Derek didn’t bother to lift the arm from his face as he spoke, sounding like he was about to pass out at any second. Leon could hardly blame him. All of the emotional turmoil likely took its toll. The time was bordering on 2 am, and Leon wouldn’t be hard-pressed to assume he had just as little sleep as he had.

‘’But the real zinger here is not the purchase itself, but the time and place. Arklay County, September 18th.’’

Derek peeked one eye from under his elbow, his interest piqued.

‘’That’s just five days before the viral outbreak in Raccoon City,’’ he said, sitting up straight again.

Leon nodded. Perhaps doctor Fitzgerald really knew he had been there too? Leon’s mind ran thousands of miles per hour figuring out different scenarios that could’ve taken place prior to their meeting. There were so many unknowns. Massaging his temples that started to threaten a mild headache, which was just one more ache to pile on top of all the other aches he was feeling at the moment. When was the last time he slept, anyway?

He kept browsing the little pile of papers. Another gas station receipt recorded the doctor’s presence in Wyoming on October 2nd, which likely was a pit stop on his way back from Raccoon.

‘’So… What does all of this mean?’’ Derek questioned.

“I’m not sure. But let’s look at the facts: five days before the Raccoon City incident, your father goes to Arklay County for shooting lessons. The viral outbreak comes and goes. He’s back safe and sound at some point around October 2nd, the day after the bomb hit. Three months later he turns up dead, killed by a mutated creature that shares characteristics of those of Umbrella’s making. Earlier that same day, he pays a tremendous amount of dollars to an unknown party.  
His car was safely parked outside the crime scene, and there had been no apparent signs of a struggle. All evidence at the scene also indicates he was surprised. A small collection of unknown pharmaceutical bottles were found on his body but had since disappeared. The one person who could’ve possibly known their location, Idina Rhodes, was kidnapped earlier today by the same creature that likely had killed him.’’

Leon fidgeted with the strap of his sling, deep in thought. Derek murmured something under his breath, but Leon ignored him.

‘’He must have seen or done something in Raccoon that was cause for extortion. It's highly likely he followed the real perp - who was using Idina’s stolen car - and had their meeting in the old warehouse. The check might have been given to the perp. But during the transfer, they either had a disagreement which lead to his murder... or the killer planned for it in advance and…’’

‘’Shut up,’’ Derek slammed the table with his fist. ‘’Shut UP!’

While Leon had been listing off his theory, he didn’t notice how Derek’s expression had grown darker and darker. He started pacing the room, seething in raw fury. Unlike before, when his anger and fear had been strongly and clearly vocalized, he now seemed to retreat into himself. Grief, frustration, rage, and confusion radiated from his slender body. His hands were balled into fists, and it looked like he was fighting every urge to punch something.

Leon felt guilty that he had been carried away like that in front of the kid. Derek may be an employee of the police station, but he wasn’t a trained officer. He wasn’t equipped for this, much less a case involving his dad.

‘’I’m… I’m sorry. I just…’’ Leon faltered. Everything that came to mind sounded disingenuine in his head. ‘’Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to...’’

Derek stood tensely by the window, regarding him with grief-stricken, blue eyes.

‘’I’m going to get you some more gauze,’’ he simply said with a harsh, clipped tone before he stormed off. Leon silently watched him leave, stiffly shifting in the couch as a new wave of pain washed over him. The alcohol and meds were either wearing off or he was just getting worse. He then noticed that Derek had referred to a small cut above his brow had opened and started bleeding sluggishly into his eye.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In almost every creative industry, they tell you that you gotta kill your darlings. They're little pieces of text and paragraphs that you love, but ultimately doesn't add anything to the work at large. Well, I killed a pretty big darling for this chapter to be a reality. 46 pages, to be exact. Had to toss away some really nice scenes, but they really didn't do much to the story I wanted to tell, and thus to the Darling Graveyard they went.  
> Anyway, this chapter is like 2 months late because I was wrapping up my degree and such. Frankly, I care a lot more about this story than my Master's, but eh. You gotta do what you gotta do. So, 2 months and like 15k words in the recycling bin later, here I am. Things are finally heating up in this chapter. Hope you enjoy. :p

Leon must’ve blacked out again, because as soon as he opened his eyes, the room was dimly lit, with a single wall lamp and the crackling fireplace. He was comfortably wrapped in a blanket, and the cut on his forehead had been dressed. Leaning forward, he cupped his head in his hand as his body screamed in protest to every little movement.

‘’You should lie back down. You’re in really bad shape.’’

Leon’s head snapped over to the direction of the voice. He regretted moving so quickly and moaned in pain as his shoulder reminded him that it was still fucked. It was Derek, who stood in the hallway with a hand cupped over the phone he held. He had seemingly showered and gotten dressed, likely a while ago judging by the dryness of his hair.

The storm outside had passed.

‘’Of course, Sir... Right away, Sir,’’ Derek dutifully nodded into the receiver and hung up the call. He sighed deeply and leaned his back against the wall, before cocking his head in Leon’s direction. ‘’How you doing, champ?’’

‘’Wh… Whatimeisit?’’ Leon slurred and clutched his head with his good hand, ignoring Derek’s meager attempt at small talk. He squinted at his wrist to look at his watch only to find it cracked and crushed beyond repair. ‘’Aw fuck,’’ he stated, too tired to process the disappointment or any sorrow for the loss of the expensive object.

‘’It’s 6:30. Henry just called, he was frantic about you. Thought you had died in the fire.’’

‘’There was a fire?’’ Leon croaked, still not quite processing the information given to him, much less anything from the night before. As muddled as everything was in his brain, a fire was news to him. His eyes locked with a gloriously tempting cup of water and a painkiller on the table in front of him.

Derek nodded.

‘’Probably from after we escaped yesterday. They say it was a boiler explosion…’’ He chuckled humorlessly to himself. ‘’Figures they would say that. Hard to imagine something else would punch a hole through a brick wall.’’

Leon rode out another wave of agony before gulping the water down with the pills. The relief was not instantaneous, but the sensation of water quenching his thirst felt refreshing and made the pain a little more tolerable. His head was throbbing and his ribs were probably blue and black by now. At least the shoulder felt about the same; hurt like a bitch, but it didn’t feel like he was dying.

_I need breakfast. I would kill for a full continental breakfast. Fuck._

Finally feeling more clearheaded, Leon noticed how Derek looked haggard and his eyes looked a little redder than before, like he had been crying. With a jolt, he suddenly remembered his tactless ramble shortly before he had passed out the night before.

‘’Uh, look, Derek… About before… About your Father, I mean… I’m…’’

“It’s fine,” Derek lied, arms crossed and refusing to meet his gaze. Leon knew that the kid was still working through stuff, so he didn’t want to push it yet. “How’s the shoulder?”

“Worse than it looks,” Leon quipped with a slight grin. “Won’t be playing baseball anytime soon.”

The kid chuckled lightly at Leon’s pathetic attempt at a joke and he smiled back. It didn’t go to his eyes, but he could tell that Derek was putting on a brave face. They could talk more, later.

Stepping into the room, Derek reached out his hand. ‘’Can you stand? The Chief wants you back at the station.’’

—-

The only thing that could get them out of the picturesque neighborhood was Derek’s snowmobile. Fresh snow from the blizzard covered the valley in an icy blanket that reached the middle of Leon’s thighs as they made their way to the machine. The roads were partially mowed, but it seemed like the trucks hadn’t made it to Derek’s remote neighborhood just yet. Since Leon had been dressed for being indoors the night before, he had to borrow one of the late doctor’s jackets so he wouldn’t turn into a popsicle by the time they arrive at the station. It felt weird and all kinds of wrong to wear something of Derek’s father, especially so soon after his death, but the kid had insisted.

The ride through the wooded areas felt weirdly oppressive, and Leon found his gaze wandering to the black shadows beyond the forest as they drove. Cold wind whipped at his cheeks, and the sun had barely begun to peek on the mountainous horizon. The sunrise hit the jagged top of Arcadia Peak like the gilded top of the pyramids of Giza. It crowned the valley, illuminating it against the dark sky that had begun to birth a new day.

Like always, the rustic, naturalistic beauty of the county was like nothing Leon had ever seen, but it only made him feel more unnerved, more out of place. Underneath all of this peaceful scenery, something much deeper, much darker was hidden. The Hook-Man was real, and he was out there. Somewhere.

The reception at the station was warm, but for all the wrong reasons. The fire had spread to the upper floors, and the winds carried the smoke towards the road, coloring and heating the surrounding snow to a dirty, sooty sludge that soaked his boots the moment he stepped in it. The neighborhood had turned into a kaleidoscope of camera blitzes, and the red, blue and orange flashes of the lamps on the emergency vehicles. A number of ambulance and fire truck sirens battled for dominance.  
It all made Leon’s head pound like a jackhammer.

Gathered in front of the station like a gaggle of rowdy penguins, stood a large group of cameramen, journalists, and civilians who were herded by Santana, who looked like he had seen better days. Just behind him stood the significantly shorter and distraught Henry, who tried his best to pacify the onlookers.

‘’Leon. Oh my god, you look like hell.’’

It was Adeline, who briskly walked up to meet Derek and Leon as they pulled up in the driveway that hadn’t been blocked off by the firemen yet.

‘’Nice to meet you too, ma’am,’’ Leon quipped, and squinted her way. The sun had begun to surface just behind her. He stiffly slid out of the passenger’s seat and stood up straight to face her. Derek remained in his seat, mesmerized by the fire in front of him.

‘’The phone lines were down all night, and we had no idea whether you were alive or dead. Thank goodness young Fitzgerald told us as soon as the storm passed.’’ She looked as confident and calm as ever, a stark contrast to the rest of her co-workers, who all looked like they had no sleep or any control of the situation that was unfolding.

‘’Yeah,’’ Leon huffed, watching the smoldering building across the lot. The basement was nothing but a blaze, and the ground floor was being eaten up by the flames at an alarming speed. The heat was overbearing.

‘’The firemen said that the building is toast. Now they’re just focusing on containing it and damage control,’’ Adeline informed them. ‘’Haraldsen is doing his best to satisfy the press until we have a better overview of the situation.’’

Derek suddenly popped into view. ‘’What about the…’’

‘’Evidence? After the first search for survivors was done, that was next on the list. Got nearly the full vault cleared, with some exceptions. Apparently a beam broke down before they could extract the last documents. Not everything is accounted for, but all things considered, that’s a whole lot better than nothing.’’ Adeline adjusted her wide-brimmed hat and lit a cigarette. It was the first time he had seen her smoke.

Leon nodded, feeling relieved that it wasn’t a complete loss, though Derek didn’t look so pleased. There was no telling if the evidence that was lost had been from his father’s case.

‘’What about Idina Rhodes? Have you found her?’’ Leon asked hopefully, shivering slightly as a gust of cold wind blew through his clothes.

‘’It was what I was gonna ask you. The rescue team had run into the basement to find her, but she was already gone. You were the last one to see her, and surveillance tapes are a little too smoked for the time being to be of any help.’’

He hadn’t expected much from that question, but he couldn’t help but feel disappointed by her reply anyway. Though, he should’ve gotten used to disappointment by now. The ground shook as the ceiling gave in from the heat, and collapsed over where the break room had once been. The sound reminded him of the helicopter that had crashed into the Raccoon P.D. He tore his gaze from the building.

Adeline took a long drag from her cigarette.

‘’You know… It does make me wonder. Where were you last night? It strikes me as odd that miss Rhodes seemingly escaped her cell while you were gone.’’

There it was. The line of questioning that either was going to make him look suspicious as hell, or just crazy. He averted her sharp gaze. He had no idea how to tell his senior that the journalist had been kidnapped by a hooded monster that was strong enough to bend metal.

‘’Yesterday I… I did a patrol of the station, had a brief conversation with her. When I went back upstairs to the records room. There was a loud sound… and...’’ Leon paused. Could he trust her?

Adeline regarded him expectantly and tapped her cigarette into the snow. Derek, having listened in on the conversation, glanced in his direction with uncertainty in his eyes as he huffed warm air into his gloved hands. Leon realized that he hadn’t told him much of what had happened before Idina was captured.

‘’I don’t… I don’t think I should say too much more just yet.’’

Adeline didn’t look too pleased, but she didn’t argue. ‘’Alright. We can talk about this again later. But don’t think the others will be as patient.’’

The swarm of people that had been hounding Santana and the Chief suddenly seemed to shift their attention towards a large car that suddenly entered the vicinity. The car was in no way a sports car, but the sheer size, smooth polish and blacked windows indicated that whoever owned it was rich, and liked to show it off.

‘’We can talk more later. Cavalry’s here,’’ Adeline quipped and tossed the rest of her cigarette into a snowbank before following the crowd, that Santana and the Chief both struggled to get under control.

Out from the car stepped out Mayor Keele. While the rush and commotion around the blazing station had everyone in a rushed frenzy, the Mayor seemed to be the only one who didn't seem to pay the smoldering structure any mind. Upon meeting the press, he gave them all a brief greeting before taking Henry aside for a more private conversation elsewhere. Frankly, Leon could tell the Mayor was furious, albeit well hidden behind an indifferent veneer of a trained politician. The Chief was likely in for a serious reprimand later.

“Come on,” Adeline said and lightly patted his good shoulder. “You look like shit. The EMT’s are over there and can give you a once-over.”

As he got patched up by the paramedics, Adeline filled him in on what had happened while he was holed up at Derek’s place. The fire had been spreading for a while before emergency services had been notified. Because of the blizzard, the roads had snowed over to the point where the mowing trucks had to do an extended night shift, so that the emergency vehicles had any hopes of reaching the station. The delay had all but extinguished any hopes of saving the building, and anybody who would have been inside.

He was unsure if he could count Idina to be lucky to have been abducted before the fire, or if whatever is happening to her right now was worse. Either idea made him shiver; suffocating in her cell without any chance of escaping was an awful idea, but he had no idea what the Hook-Man was capable of. Where did he keep her? What did she know that made her a target?

Sitting on the truck bed of the ambulance, he let the EMT’s examine him for his injuries while his mind was elsewhere. Glancing around the perimeter, he scouted for people who might’ve seen anything. Aside from Derek and himself, it was likely nobody was none the wiser about the monster that plagued this town. The creature was smart enough to stay out of sight, so proving its existence was going to be difficult. He certainly didn’t hold out hope for the surveillance tapes to be usable enough to prove anything, if the tapes had survived at all.

What caused the fire in the first place? He was no expert, but lighting a fire in a blizzard would be incredibly hard to do without some outside equipment. Of the possibly flammable materials inside the station walls, none of them were an outright fire threat, and most of the electronic equipment had been unplugged for the night. The fuses were brand new, as part of the station's renewal project. To top it all off, he knew well that the boiler room was on the south side of the building, far away from where the fire was based.

It reeked of foul play.

The Mayor seemed to finish up his conversation with the chief and walked over to the side of the parking lot, where he began to speak with the journalists. Now freed of both the Mayor, and the prodding public, Henry stood alone and watched the building go up in flames. Adeline walked over to stand next to Santana, as they watched the Mayor speak from the sidelines.

Charlie arrived shortly after, still dressed in her civvies, having seemingly just woken up. It seemed she had only just found out about the fire, and still seemed shocked, cupping her mouth in silent horror. In her car, he saw two kids who were both transfixed at the building. They couldn’t be much older than 9 and 12 years old.

‘’It was supposed to be her shift,’’ Leon said, as Derek walked over to his side. ‘’I wonder what would’ve happened if she was here last night.’’

Derek shrugged and crossed his arms as another gust of wind passed through them.

‘’She wasn’t, so you don’t need to bury yourself into that train of thought.’’ Then he grinned. ‘’Though I’m pretty sure if she did, she would not go without a fight.’’

‘’I guess we have that in common,’’ Leon quipped. It didn’t make him feel much better, but Derek’s determined voice stopped him from spiraling.

The paramedics were finishing up and talked about sending him away for x-rays, but he didn’t really register what they said. His attention was suddenly captured by a figure he hadn’t noticed had been there the entire time.

Off in the distance, he noticed Helen.

She stood far away from the rest of the crowd by the edge of the forest, partially obscured by branches and smoke. In fact, it seemed like nobody else had noticed her standing there, without a winter coat or boots, seemingly only dressed in her baby pink pajamas. The fire or the commotion didn’t seem to affect her in the slightest. It was far from her apple-cheeked and jovial demeanor he had grown used to. She stood completely still, with her head cocked slightly to the side, the plastic rolls in her hair were starting to fall out, and wisps of gray hair hung from her portly frame. Her face looked absent and slack, yet her eyes were staring daggers at him, never blinking.

With the same weird, stilted movement, she mouthed the words: ‘’You’re next.’’

In her hand, he saw a lighter.

Surprised and confused, Leon looked from both Derek, then to Adeline, who both stood transfixed to the Mayor’s speech. The firemen were too busy putting out the fire to notice her, and the remaining onlookers faced the other way, towards the Mayor. Charlie was busy reassuring her kids and keeping them calm. Cold sweat ran down Leon’s spine, and his palms felt slick inside of his gloves. His gaze whipped back to the clearing where he first saw her. He could see Helen’s footprints in the snow, slowly melting from the smoldering building. She was gone.

Questions and theories spun in his brain, and the overwhelming sense of paranoia he had experienced in the past couple of weeks suddenly crashed into his system with a vengeance. The cold lump in his chest exploded inside of him, making it hard to breathe, and his vision began to tunnel. His headache pounded harder and harder until nothing around him made any sense. Stunned and confused, he let himself be taken into the ambulance by impersonal and professional hands. Nobody seemed to notice as he was taken away from the scene.


End file.
